Drawn to You
by KricketWilliams
Summary: Art enthusiast Penelope strikes up an unlikely friendship with Derek. Will it become much more? AU with lots of canon hints and characters. I don't own a thing.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi everyone! I have been toying with this idea for awhile, making a fun summer read. This is an AU take with a lot of canon thrown in to the story. I hope you enjoy seeing how Penelope grows into the Garcia we know and love (with a little help from her Hot Stuff!)...

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**Chapter 1**

Penelope sat at her desk in the middle row, rather excited to get a chance to sketch a live body. Last month, a young woman sat, holding fruit, with a vapid expression on her face. She was lovely, with a long, swan-like neck and clean lines over her shoulders. It had been a pure pleasure to draw her.

This month, they were bringing in a male model—and he was going to be nude. This would be the first time Penelope had ever seen a live naked man. She'd seen many pictures—for artistic purposes, of course!—and drew accordingly how each figure looked. The male form was gorgeous; this would be a treat.

Of course, this man wouldn't look anywhere near as hot as her next door neighbor. He was truly the most beautiful man she'd ever seen—tall, with dark, curling hair, a mocha complexion, and eyes that sparkled. She'd watched every day for three months straight, from her sorority house front porch, as he played catch shirtless in the front yard. He'd smiled up at her, a brilliant grin with startling white teeth that could've been in a toothpaste ad, waved or winked, and she—along with every other girl on the porch—sighed with bliss.

Everyone except her roommate, Emily, that is.

"Look at him," Prentiss had groused, her lip curled with disdain. "He thinks he's all that. I swear, he's putting a show on for you girls, and you're all falling for it."

"Prentiss, put a sock in it and let us enjoy," one of the other girls had said to the complaining Goth girl.

Em had huffed. "He's a standard jock. Didn't you guys get enough of that type of boys picking on you in high school?"

Shaking her head, she'd remembered something. "Oh, Em. A book came in for you at the library…that David Rossi one you wanted to read."

"Ooh!" Em had said excitedly, her black eyes wide with delight. "Now _that_ is a man! Have fun with your nasty little jock, PG…"

"Don't say that," Penelope had said quietly.

"All jocks are the same."

She'd shaken her head. "I don't know about that..."

Actually, she did know. She'd met him, and he—Derek—was as wonderful and kind as he was beautiful. It had been a late night at the library, and she'd been coming home, carrying far too many books as usual. It had sleeted, and the sidewalks were slippery...

_Penelope stepped carefully, hoping she wouldn't fall. It was early March, a late cold stretch had hit the campus. She was wearing her sneakers that were so old, they had no tread left whatsoever. Style was not her forte by any means. The streets were dark, except for lights from the neighboring house. Gamma Phi, the "jock house", was having one of their usual parties; she glanced over to watch._

_He was on the front porch, standing with some leggy blonde who was lifting her unseasonably short skirt to show him her panties. He was smiling at her, that smile that melted Penelope's heart every time she saw him pass by. He'd never noticed her, but that was okay._

_She was highly unnoticeable._

_She watched for a second too long and felt her feet fly up from under her. Her books and papers went flying in one direction, and she went the opposite. She hit the sidewalk with a thud, her head hitting mere seconds afterward. Like a cartoon character, she saw little birds and stars flying over her head as she lay there with the wind knocked out of her._

_When she finally got her breath back, she rolled to her side and went to sit up. She had to retrieve her stuff, and…_

_A deep voice startled her. "Be careful. Don't get up too fast."_

_Penelope blinked. Her glasses had flown off her face when she'd landed. "I...ummm..."_

"_Here," he said, and she saw a faint blur of a hand coming __toward__ her. She took the assist to her feet._

"_I can't see," she murmured, rubbing the back of her suddenly aching head._

"_Whoa! How hard did you hit your head?"_

_She giggled and winced. "No, my glasses fell off."_

"_Wait a minute…stay still," he __said, disappearing__. A moment later, she could feel his presence. "Here you go," he replied, and then she felt his hands on her face, gently sliding her glasses on._

Oh my stars…

_Her dream man, the man she'd had countless fantasies about, was holding her face softly. "Is that better?"_

"_Hi," she breathed._

_He smiled at her, those dark eyes twinkling in the dim light, and gave a tiny wave with his fingers. "Hi, yourself. I'm Derek."_

"_P-Penelope," she stuttered._

"_Hey, P-Penelope," he said, still smiling. "Nice to meet you."_

Say thank you, you idiot!_ her conscious mind rattled._

"_Th-__Thanks__!" she blurted._

_He chuckled, a warm, low sound. "Don't thank me until we get you safely on your porch."_

_Derek bent down, grabbed her books in one arm, and looped the other arm around her waist. The warmth of his body and the smell of his aftershave—Drakkar or some common scent that he made oodles better—made her shiver._

"_Cold?" he asked._

"_Yes," she whispered back. It __was just a__ little lie, so it didn't count as much __toward__ her sins._

"_Don't worry; we'll get you back soon," he said encouragingly._

_Far too soon, they reached the step, creeping alongside one another._

_He beamed another grin at her, knocking her star struck yet again. "See you around, P-Penelope."_

"_G-__Goodbye__."_

She hadn't been able to say anything else, but he'd been her hero, her knight in shining armor that night…and for the first time in her life, she'd fallen irrevocably in love.

Whomever was in this class, naked Adonis or not, couldn't compare with that.

* * *

_What a way to make a buck_.

Derek didn't know why this was bothering him. He'd never had an issue with his nudity. In fact, he was sort of an exhibitionist. He was the kind of guy who walked through the locker room after games, stripped naked, and strutted to the shower, or the first one naked when it came to skinny dipping. He was proud of his body, and rightly so. Granted, he had a great metabolism—he was a college-aged male, and most college guys had a pretty good met rate—but he worked hard to look like he did. So when his ex-girlfriend had suggested he model for the art class, he'd thought it was a great idea.

Not so much anymore...

Derek grumbled in thought as he stood there in a robe, waiting to get called in to the studio. His heart was racing from nerves, his gut was flipping just slightly, and he seriously thought of bolting. However, it wasn't because of the nerves—or completely because of it. It was because of a rather embarrassing hard-on he was sporting.

He hadn't anticipated that happening, and the fucking thing would _not_ go away. He'd tried to think of it as a job, or even think of it like a school function—he'd never had a hard-on in the damned locker room—but that didn't work. He'd tried to think of sad things, or having sex with a repulsive alien, and _still_ the towering erection would not subside.

Maybe it was the thought of all the women staring at him, admiring him, or the newness of the situation, but something was causing this reaction, and it was driving him crazy.

"Are you ready, Mr. Morgan?" the art teacher, a woman in her late seventies with gray hair in a bun and glasses perched on the tip of her nose, asked as she walked into the room.

His discomfort rose almost as high as his dick. "Uhh...I have a problem."

The elderly woman let her gaze travel over him and then paused at where his robe was tenting outward. "Oh, my. I see. This is your first time, isn't it? An art virgin?"

He tried desperately not to cringe but failed miserably. In all of his life, he never thought he'd be discussing virginity of any sort with a septuagenarian!

_Take me out back and shoot me._ _Do it quickly, please..._

Surprisingly, she waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about that, dear; it happens. Come along."

_Good God_, he groaned in thought, following the woman.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I don't have a chance to answer yet—I'm going camping for the next few days—but I thought I would put this out there for you guys to read and enjoy. Love, Kricket

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**Chapter 2**

She could do this. Penelope was ready. She'd sharpened her pencils, dabbed her charcoal sticks with some water, and made sure her gray eraser that didn't leave marks was at hand. Now all she had to do was prepare for her first live viewing of a naked man. She was an artist, almost a professional. She could do this.

She hoped to God she didn't giggle hysterically.

"Ladies and gentleman," Madame Grosskilz said, strolling into the center of the classroom—there was one man in the _Stationary Forms_ class.

Right behind Madame was the man they had to draw.

Penelope didn't have a clue what he looked like. With lightening speed, she'd looked downward at the man's feet and wished that she'd sat in the rear for once. The room was set up with the easels in a circle, lining up one by one, like the petals on a daisy. Penelope arrived early every day for the best view, but today... Damn her nerdy hide for always wanting to be up front!

That being said...goodness, he had big feet. They were long, with long toes and high arches. They were nice-looking feet, a lovely mocha hue that would be fun to capture in the black and white charcoal/lead drawing. She loved that color skin; it reminded her of—

The hair on the back of her neck rose. It couldn't be...could it?

"Please welcome our model by paying the highest amount of respect and courtesy to him. Be respectful; he is a human and crafted by a master Artist, just like the statues you have drawn in the past. I expect," Madame enunciated carefully, "that you will all be professional. Any misconduct will cause you to be removed from the classroom. You have two hours to complete your drawing."

She turned to the model and said, "Sir, you may remove your robe and stand in the center."

"Any particular way I'm supposed to stand?" a familiar, wonderful voice said.

Penelope's stomach began to churn. _Oh. Oh,no. Oh, no, no, no._

One glance told her, _Yes._

Sure enough, there was the familiar face of the man she loved...along with every other part of his body. Every single...enormous part.

She closed her eyes and tried her best to breathe normally and calm her flaming face. Mercy, she had to be beet red; her whole body felt unnaturally hot.

"Act natural, changing positions every five minutes to allow the students a better view."

"Sitting? Standing?" he asked.

Madame gave a smile. "Any way you'd like."

"I don't want to screw this up."

Madame chuckled. "My dear, this isn't hard, just—"

"The hell it isn't!" some girl cackled with from the back, followed by a stream of rather randy wolf whistles and giggles.

Madame frowned, and the crowd quieted. "Ladies! Please, be professional and ignore the slight problem—"

"That ain't slight_!" _the same girl cackled, causing another roar of laughter.

A surge of protectiveness rose inside of Penelope. This was her Derek, the man that had helped her when she needed it. He didn't deserve to be heckled or catcalled. He was doing this for artistic purposes. She turned in her seat to glare, and—

"Silence!" Madame barked, causing the room to be quiet. "Who said that?"

Unfortunately, Madame was deaf as a doornail. There was no way on earth she would ever figure out who was causing the noise and disruption, making poor Derek so uncomfortable.

Thoughts rolled through her head about how embarrassed he must feel. He couldn't control his body's obvious reaction any more than she could control breathing. She looked up at him to give him a reassuring and sympathetic look.

He was grinning. In fact, he didn't look like he was bothered by it at all. He stood there, maybe a little blush coloring his cheeks, and struck a pose like Madonna's song "Vogue."

That was surprising to her, but she was glad for him. If he didn't mind, then that was a good thing. He was being professional like she was, just brushing the embarrassment away.

And maybe Prentiss was a touch correct: he liked showing off.

Penelope picked up her pencil and began to scratch a rough outline. It was odd; she always thought the male figure would be kind of boring to draw. All those flat planes and lines, strange protruding things and dangly bits; it didn't seem appealing to her at all. Now that he'd come in and stood there, she saw the appeal.

She realized she could draw him all day. She had a side view of him: the sleek line of his back, the curve of his masculine buttocks, the thickness of his thighs, the sinew in his arms and calves. She wasn't bold enough to stare and draw what had gained everyone else's attention, but she focused on everything else.

As she sketched, it was almost as if she were touching him, feeling each wonderful definition. The blush was fading, leaving a warmth stirring in her blood. She lost herself in her drawing, feeling as if she were a sculptor, carving his perfection, making certain that each light and shade did him justice.

"Beautiful," she whispered huskily.

Penelope had a habit. She always talked to herself when she drew, and this was no exception. However, most other times, what she was drawing was not alive. She was shocked when he turned his head and looked directly at her.

* * *

_This is kind__ of fun!_ Derek thought as he stood there, posing like Arnold Schwarzenegger had done when he was crowned Mr. Universe. Luckily, he ran in different circles from this crowd; nobody in here knew him. He'd been a little worried that he...uh...wouldn't be "impressive" to look at—even with the hard-on. He'd heard favorably from girlfriends, and he'd seen a few pornos, but a guy never really knew...

As he'd walked in, he'd seen the faces of the girls, and many of them had winked and smiled at him. A couple others had their heads down, preparing to draw, but the bolder ones appraised him. When he'd dropped the robe, those same bold girls had looked impressed, which was a nice confidence booster. But when the girl had shouted the catcall, it solidified his confidence—and unfortunately, his erection—and he began to grin. He couldn't help but smile, regardless of how embarrassed he felt. It was damned flattering!

Oh well, he'd get over it. He'd put on a game face and move on. He had nerves on the football field, too. This was no different.

Except he was naked.

He was about to chuckle at his thoughts, when he heard a sexy, breathy voice whisper, "Beautiful."

He turned to look and nearly fell off the platform he was standing on.

"Penelope?" he said as he watched her huge blue eyes widen even more, until they were visible behind her coke-bottle lenses. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She was magenta, she was blushing so ferociously. He could almost feel the heat radiating off of her scarlet cheeks.

Once she started breathing again—Derek was pretty sure she hadn't been for a minute there—she gasped and looked down at her lap, like she was guilty of stealing cookies or something.

Derek's heart went out to her. She was a nice girl, a little freshman from the "nerdy sorority" next door, as his ex called it. She was maybe a touch awkward and strange because she rarely talked, but she was nice. She seemed to want to fit in and was always watching him like she needed a friend. Of course, he was busy with stuff, being a junior and on the football team, so his social obligations were pretty full. Add that to the fact they didn't swim in the same pond, he really hadn't had a chance to get to know her. Maybe after class, he'd stop and ask if she was okay.

Time went by, and ironically it was Derek who was the one who was staring. The rest of the class, she never looked up. She continued to barely touch her pencil to the paper. It made him worried that she wouldn't complete the task. At least the tomato redness of her face had dulled to a rather adorable pink. He tried to look other places, but he kept being drawn back to her. She had pretty skin, nice dark blonde hair, and really full lips. He hadn't noticed that about her before, that her lips were puffy and kissable. He wondered if her boyfriend enjoyed those lips?

"Ten more minutes," Granny Instructor—Derek couldn't remember her name—said to the classroom. That caused his Penelope to look up.

Derek could tell she was doing everything in her power to avoid looking at him, but still, her eyes would shift and her cheeks would begin to flame again. He shook his head; they definitely needed to talk...and soon.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! You guys really brighten my day. Let me know what you think of this chapter and if you can kind of tell the road I'm going down :)...

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**Chapter 3**

_Please! Please, time, please hurry! _Penelope silently begged Father Time. She needed to get out of that classroom post haste.

Dear Lord...the moment he'd said her name, she'd been done for. No more anonymity for her. There he was, her ideal man, naked as the day he was born and posing for her like a dream come true...and then came the rude awakening. Not only did he notice she was there, he kept his vision focused on her, like no one else was in the classroom.

Glancing up quickly, she saw that he was _still_ looking at her.

_God in heaven, please make him look somewhere else,_ she prayed with futility. She didn't understand why he was looking at her. She was nothing to look at—unless he thought her fascination was humorous. It was mortifying to the extreme.

Another look...he was still staring.

Oh, she wished he'd look somewhere—anywhere!—else, but he didn't. She looked down at her easel, and she could still feel his gaze on her, like a palpable thing. It was a hot, searing touch that made her uneasy.

Why did she ever take this stupid class?

"Students, we are done," Madame mercifully said eons later. She turned to Derek and smiled benevolently. "Thank you for your service. We—"

"He can service us anytime!" the cackling girl from before said, causing a riot of giggles from the other girls.

Madame tapped her cane on the ground. "Silence! Students, please, we—"

She had more to say, but Penelope didn't hear it. As fast as she possibly could, she gathered her stuff and nearly ran out of the classroom. She didn't even bother taking off her brightly colored art smock her mother had made for her. She hadn't finished the picture. She couldn't. Her hands kept shaking, and she'd tapped at the paper with her pencil, making no marks whatsoever once he'd made eye contact with her.

Darting quickly through the throngs of students exiting from other classes, she finally made it outside and began to walk with her head down as usual through the campus lawn. She was walking so rapidly that she was getting a side stitch before she finally slowed down. She didn't need to be so quick. She was being silly. He wasn't the boogie man. Sooner or later, she'd have to face him. He lived next door, after all. Besides, she was safe for now. He had to get dressed, and—

"Penelope!" a familiar voice called out.

The hair rose on the back of her neck as she turned to see Derek jogging toward her.

"Hey," he said as he made it to her in a split second. Goodness, he was fast as lightening. She practically lumbered, but he was swift and graceful, like a gazelle.

"Hey," she said, beginning to blush again.

He smiled at her, and mortification rolled over her. Unable to stand near him, she continued walking, trying to escape, but he would have none of that.

He reached for her shoulder, but gently. "Hold up, please."

She turned to face him...and the music.

The smile left and disappointment was now clearly written on his face. "Oh, no. None of that."

"None of what?" she asked, feeling a little confused.

"That blushing," he stated bluntly as he tucked in his shirt.

"Am I?" she asked stupidly. She knew she was; she could feel the heat in her cheeks rising intensely. She seriously wished the ground would swallow her whole. Her brothers were always telling her it was uncool to blush around boys. Not that this boy would ever be interested...

"You are," he said honestly and then brought a finger up and tapped her cheeks gently. "Here and here."

A zing of feeling rolled over her as he touched her, and that just made everything worse. She hung her head, unable to meet the teasing, dancing eyes as he looked at her.

"Come now, sweetness," he cajoled. "It's all right."

"No, it's not."

"Sure, it is," he reassured her and then grinned again. "Damn, girl. You're blushing so much, I'm starting to think you were the one that was naked in there."

"Oh, God!" she cried, turning to get away quickly.

He chuckled, easily keeping up with her. "Penelope..."

"Please go away," she pleaded.

"Hey," he said, holding her arm again to slow her down. "We're not gonna let something like a little bit of nakedness get in between our friendship now, are we?"

"Please stop!" she cried, nearly squealing.

"Fine, fine," he said, coming to a stop and raising his hands. "Okay. Ignore my offer of friendship. See if I care..."

She was still walking, but that made her slow down. She knew it was a bad play, one that was meant to make her feel guilty, but...well, it was working. Really, he was very nice to her, and it wasn't like he'd asked to be naked in front of her for over an hour. He was just as surprised as she was. Besides, she really did need a friend, and he was the sweetest thing—even if he was hot as hell. If he could ignore what happened, then so could she.

She stopped, pushed her glasses back up on her nose, and then turned back to face him.

He was standing there, pouting, his bottom lip out like a Kewpie doll. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans, and he was kicking an imaginary pebble on the ground.

"I'm sorry I got so embarrassed," she said, coming closer to him.

He looked up and smiled at her. "It's okay. I just think it's something we can rise above...oh, shit." He chuckled. "Bad choice of words. Let's not let things come between us?" He bit his lip. "Not a good one either, is it?"

She shook her head and giggled. "Overlook?"

He winked. "Were you looking over, Penelope?"

"More looking under," she answered back with a wink of her own.

"Why, Penelope," he said with a gasp of genuine astonishment. "That was pretty dang fast there."

"Four brothers."

"Ah," he said with a smile. "Older or younger?"

"I'm the youngest," she answered.

"Ah...so you're the baby girl," he murmured with his beaming smile. Goodness, this man could light up the world with that million dollar grin. "I like that."

"How about you?" she asked. "Any siblings?"

"I got two younger sisters," he said as he watched her shuffle her art bag to her other shoulder. "Can I take your bag for you?"

"I got it," she said. It wasn't that heavy; she didn't mind.

He looked disappointed. "Oh. Okay."

She shook her head. "What is wrong with me carrying my own bag?"

Shrugging, he said, "I was raised a gentleman. You help a pretty lady out when you can. My momma would be disappointed in me, but I understand..."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, fine. Here," she said, handing him the bag.

"Besides, Baby Girl," he drawled with a wicked grin. "This way, I can see my drawing in that bag!"

He held the art satchel in front of him and pretended to open it.

Her skin began to crawl, and she gasped, reaching for the bag immediately. "No!"

He held it up over her head. "Can I see it?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"Give it back, Derek!" she snapped, her hands on her waist.

Another astonished look crossed his handsome face. "You remembered my name, too."

Of course she remembered his name...she'd signed _Mrs. Derek Morgan_ hundreds of times in her notebook in her room. He was singularly unforgettable. Still, she was quite upset. Her work in progress was hers alone, her private thoughts, like her diary. It was unconscionable to think of sharing it until it was ready.

"Yes. My bag, please." She held out her hand.

He must've noticed she wasn't smiling, because he handed her the bag back right away. "I'm sorry. I was just teasing."

"It wasn't funny," she said. "I hate when people see my unfinished work."

"Unfinished?"

She shook her head, and this time, she knew she was pouting.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I got carried away."

"It wasn't you," she said. He looked so perplexed and contrite. She started to feel bad.

"Well, I still feel bad."

"It's okay," she pleaded, feeling bad herself for being such a ninny.

"Hey," he said quickly. "Can I make it up to you? Pizza or something?"

A nervous thrill went through her. Was Derek Morgan asking her for a date? She couldn't believe it. That couldn't be possible...could it?

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" she blurted, breaking another few of her brothers' cardinal rules about men. "I mean, I'm sure you do, and she'd be upset, and—"

Derek put his fingers to her lips to halt her, and again that zing of feeling shot straight to her toes. She held her breath and swallowed hard.

"Honey, I got _lots_ of girlfriends," he said with a grin only a true player could have. "None of them serious."

When he took his fingers away, she whispered, "Oh."

"Besides, we're friends. We can go out as friends, right?"

Good grief. What had she been thinking? Of course he thought of her as a friend. She wasn't exactly in his league. Knowing the turth didn't make it any easier, and her heart sank a little. "Okay."

Wow, they'd made it to the dormitories already. The walk, which was usually tortuously long, had seemed like nothing walking with him.

"Well...see you later," Penelope said.

"Tomorrow?" he asked. "Seven?"

She smiled and nodded. "Sure."

As she started walking up her stairs, she heard him say, "Hey, Baby Girl?"

She turned and gave him a questioning look.

He swept his eyes over her and smiled. "You look great in those bright colors. They suit the artist in you."

She could tell by the look on his face that he was sincere. Hmm... Most of the stuff she wore was nondescript, because it was easier to blend in.

"Th-Thanks."

He winked. "You're welcome."

"Hey, Morgan!" a guy from his house called out, a portable phone in his hands. "Desiree is waitin' on the phone for you."

"Okay!" He waved at Penelope. "See you around!"

A second later, he vaulted over his banister and was in conversation with whomever Desiree was, the lucky girl.

_Sounded kinda like a stripper_, she thought pettily.

Sighing, she started up the stairs, but a small smile curved her lips.

A kinda-sorta date with Derek Morgan. Holy cow!

She'd have to see what bright colors she could scrounge up in her wardrobe...


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I am sorry I am a touch late on this. Real Life has been incredibly hectic. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and it makes up for my tardiness...

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**Chapter 4**

Penelope was ready for her "date" with Derek at six thirty. It was around that same time that her Goth-inspired roommate returned home. Penelope felt very pretty dressed in a bright blue dress, nearly electric in color. It was the brightest thing she had in her wardrobe, and she hoped that Derek liked it.

"Look at you," Emily Prentiss said, giving her an appraising look up and down. She emitted a low whistle. "Fancy."

One thing about Prentiss; she was gruff, but she was honest and trustworthy. Penelope had told her about the art class with Derek the night before when she'd returned to their shared room and that they were going out again the next day. Prentiss had seemed genuinely pleased for her.

However, the way she'd just said that last word...that made Penelope worry a bit.

"Is it too fancy?" she asked innocently.

Em stroked her chin, like she was deep in thought. "Well, that depends on how you look at it. If you want him to know you listened, you'd pick one article of clothing or a barrette or something to show your casual, hard-to-get interest."

Penelope bit her bottom lip. "Okay..."

"If you want to appear desperate to please him, you wear that," Em said, giving her a wrinkled-nose look.

Penelope's face fell. "Oh, no."

Em sat on her bed, the bottom bunk, and looked up at Penelope. "What is this date?"

"It's...um...not really a date," Penelope explained. "It's a friendship get-together at the pizza parlor."

Prentiss arched a brow. "But he's coming here to get you and he's driving and he's going to pay?"

"Well...I think so."

"It's a date," Em said, standing. "But that's too formal and too frilly. Take it off, put on jeans and a bright, pretty T-shirt, and I'll see if someone has a hair thing you can wear."

As quickly as possible, Penelope dropped the dress, rehung it, and shrugged into her jeans. She had a purple button-down shirt from the Gap® that her mother had bought her for Christmas that she'd sworn she'd never wear, and she donned that quickly. She wasn't a fan of button-down shirts; she had an ample chest, and the buttons pulled a bit in the center. Glancing in the mirror, she begrudgingly agreed with her mom; it looked nice.

She went to put away her pumps so she could grab her regular tennis shoes, when Emily came back with a bright headband.

"No. Keep those heels," she said.

Penelope hated heels. They were so high and uncomfortable. "But—"

"It elongates the leg and makes you look trimmer," Prentiss interrupted.

Sighing, Penelope slid the shoes back on, but one thing was bothering her. Emily Prentiss was wearing a Nirvana T-shirt, holey jeans, and had a hairdo that looked similar to Joan Jett's from The Blackhearts. From her appearance, you'd never guess she'd be interested in clothes and fashion. Penelope wondered why she knew so much. She decided to be honest—and brave—and just ask.

"Em, how on earth do you know all this?"

Emily have her a long look and then sighed heavily. "Seven cotillions in six countries over four years. _That_ is how I know."

Penelope's eyes widened, as her mind had just been blown. "Whoa. Did you—"

"Hurry up! It's almost seven," Em said, hurrying her out the door toward the bathroom so that Penelope could perfect her makeup and don the headband.

She hurried getting ready, hoping she wouldn't be late...but she truly didn't have to rush.

Derek Morgan didn't show.

* * *

_Shit!_ Derek thought as he sat in the cab of the tow truck. He'd known when he'd made the trip to Cali on his bike that it wasn't going to last much longer, but he'd seriously thought it might make it to the end of his school years. That appeared to have been wishful thinking.

Eight twenty.

He shook his head, knowing that Penelope was going to think he'd stood her up. He hadn't, and he had no way of contacting her. A few people he knew had mobile phones, but he wasn't that lucky yet. It was one of the big purchases he planned on having someday so that things like this didn't happen.

"Son, you okay?" the tow truck driver asked.

Derek grumbled an affirmative.

The man laughed. "Well, that was a lie if I ever heard one. You got a date or something?"

Derek smirked. That was a good way to put it. "A something, I guess."

"Well, can you make it up to her somehow?"

Derek thought about it for a second, and then he smiled. "Yeah. I think I can."

* * *

At ten to ten, Penelope was back upstairs, in her bed on the top bunk. Thankfully, Prentiss wasn't saying a thing, although she could seriously be dishing out a huge helping of "I told you so" about Derek Morgan.

What had she been thinking, Penelope wondered. A guy like that was never, ever, interested in a girl like her. He'd even said it wasn't a date. She'd dolled herself up like some foolish peacock, even wearing makeup, which she rarely wore, and for what?

No. She needed to get the facts straight. She wasn't a peacock. She was a peahen—always had been and always would be. They were drab and dull.

Ironically, she was still wearing her outfit, but not because she had hope that Derek would suddenly appear. It was more that she was feeling depressed and lacked energy to bother taking anything off. She'd probably sleep in that outfit and get a ton of pimples because she didn't wash her face, and—

"Garcia," one of the girls said, shouting through her closed door. "Someone's here for you."

Penelope frowned. "It's past curfew in this house for a weeknight."

"Should I send him away?"

At first, Penelope was ready to just forget it, but she was an infernally curious critter. She hoped down from her bunk, past a headphone-wearing, Walkman-listening Emily, and made her way to the stairs.

Standing at the bottom, just outside the screen door, was Derek, holding a bouquet of early spring wildflowers from around the campus and a pizza box. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans—she said a silent thanks to Em—but they were stained with grease, like he'd been fixing something.

As she arrived at the door, he said, "I'm so sorry I'm late. My bike broke down on the way home from work, and I got stuck on the 905."

She winced. That was a bad highway.

"Peace offering?" he asked hopefully, holding out the flowers toward her. His lovely, long-fingered hands had grease imbedded in his knuckles.

She smiled. "Thanks. They're pretty."

"I got us a pizza, too...if you're still hungry?"

She shook her head. "I ate something."

"Oh," he said, looking dejected. "That's understandable."

"I'm sorry," she said automatically. He looked so contrite and miserable.

"No, Baby Girl. I'm the one who needs to apologize," he said softly. "I'll do it forever, as long as you forgive me and give me another chance."

How could she ever stay mad at that?

Sighing softly, she said, "Already forgiven, Derek."

He smiled too, then. "Hey, I know you had dinner, but would you mind keeping a lonely chicken delivery boy company?"

Penelope bit back a chuckle. "_Chicken delivery_?"

He grinned widely. "Lonnie's Broasted Chicken. Best fried chicken in town."

She did laugh then, which earned her a mock scowl.

"Woman, it pays the bills," he said sternly, but his dark eyes were dancing. "Our motto? More cluck for the buck."

That only made her giggle more, so much so that the head mistress of the dorm came out.

"Penelope, please bid your guest good evening," she snapped. "It's past curfew."

Derek frowned. "Damn. Ten, huh?"

Penelope nodded and said regretfully, "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's my fault for being late. I'm never going to forgive my bike." He raked a hand over the dark curls on his head and sighed in frustration. "I wish to God we could've had our time together tonight."

"Me, too."

"I wish..." he murmured, and then he paused, as if he were thinking about something. A second later, he said, "Well, I'll just head to the picnic tables and eat."

"Okay," she said sadly. "Good night."

"Good night...but Penelope? I have to say one thing."

"Yes?"

"You look great tonight."

She smiled. "Thanks, Derek."

"So I'm going," he said slowly, and then repeated, "I'll be at the picnic tables, eating alone."

"Okay..." she said, thinking he sounded really strange.

"Night, sweet P."

Penelope hurried up the stairs back to her room, feeling both excited and happy that he hadn't forgotten and mournfully sad that he was out there alone. Poor Derek. Out there. At the picnic tables. Alone.

Outside...at the picnic tables...just under her window.

Quietly, she opened her window. Sure enough, Derek was sitting down there, looking up at the dorm, a piece of pizza in his hand.

She seriously needed to go back to bed. If the house matron, found her, she'd be in such trouble. She'd never done anything risky in her life. That wasn't in her nature.

Two seconds later, her leg was going out of her window, followed by the rest of her body, and she was headed down the fire escape. A thrill, along with a guilty feeling, rose, but she did it anyway.

Derek didn't look surprised. He smiled at her. "I wondered which room was yours."

"You knew I was coming," she said. It wasn't a question.

He shook his head. "I didn't know for sure, but I'd hoped."

"How'd you know about this?"

"These buildings are the exact same," he explained. "A boy and girl version. This is how we sneak girls out...or sneak girls in."

She shook her head. Of course. He was such a player, but he was lovable.

Her nerves started to rise again. "I could get in big trouble."

"Blame it on me," he said. "We'll be partners in crime, Baby Girl."

"I don't know..." she said worriedly, glancing back at the dorm.

He arched a brow. "You could always go back in."

She hesitated for only a second before she said, "You could at least offer me a piece of pizza."

He grinned so brightly that she wondered if they even needed the dim light of the moon.

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled and then handed her a slice of the cheesy pie.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear readers: Thank you so much for the reviews. I promise I will answer them, but I'm running late. Some things in real life have taken a turn for the worse. No worries—Shawn, Jess, and I are okay, but my siblings are having a terrible time of it, and family has to come first. **PLEASE** forgive me for being so late in answering. So continue reviewing—I can't tell you what a gift it is to me and how much I appreciate it. Thanks for your support and for reading. Love, Kricket _

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**Chapter 5**

Penelope held the pizza Derek offered, letting it cool for a moment before she took a bite. She loved pizza, but she didn't like to get mouth burn. Derek wasn't eating, either. Instead, he was staring at her, watching, rapt, like she was his favorite television program. Penelope was glad it was dark out; she had a feeling she was blushing again.

"Ladies first," he said, pointing at her slice.

She shook her head. "I'm waiting for it to cool down."

"It's best when it's hot," he countered.

"No, thank you," she argued.

"All that cheese, waiting for you..." he enticed, wiggling his brows.

She giggled. "You've almost convinced me, but I so do not want blistered lips."

He waited a moment, and then he nodded, all the while continuing to watch her. "That would be a shame, Baby Girl. You've got a very pretty mouth."

Penelope's heart skipped a beat as she saw herself reflected in the sparkling, chocolate brown depths of his eyes. How he could make his eyes sparkle, even under the barest moonlight, she would never know.

He was all charm and seduction. No wonder he had a million girlfriends.

Slightly bitter, she shrugged. "Gentlemen first. Besides, you're hungrier than I am, so you _should_ go first."

"I can wait," he said, even as his stomach growled loudly enough for both of them to hear.

She rolled her eyes. "Please."

He grinned, white teeth flashing. "Anything for that magic word."

Penelope watched as Derek took a massive bite of the pizza pie. A second later, he held his mouth open, chewed food exposed, and panted. Small cloud puffs were visible in the chilly night air.

"Hot," he mumbled and then managed to chew again before swallowing. He took a big swig of Mountain Dew from a bottle and swished it around a little bit, loudly.

Hmm...maybe not all charm and seduction...

She grinned, holding back the _I told you so_ she rightfully could've said, blew on her piece, and then took her bite.

It was cheesy bliss, chewy, yet crunchy crust with a marinara sauce bursting with fresh tomatoes. There weren't any meat toppings, like sausage and pepperoni, which was perfect for her. She had hippie parents and had been raised a vegetarian. She wondered if Derek somehow knew that and how he'd found that little fact out. It seemed out of place for a strapping football player. Well, she'd never get to know him if she didn't ask.

"Do you like vegetarian-style?" she asked after she'd swallowed her bite of pizza.

His nose scrunched up in disgust. "Vegetarian? Hell, no."

She blinked at his rather adamant response. "Oh."

"I love pepperoni and sausage and bacon and that fake Canadian bacon stuff and even hamburger on my pizza. No wussy vegetarian stuff. Man, in Chicago—where I'm from—they put this big-ass wheel of sausage on top of your pie." He closed his eyes, off in dreamland for a moment, and then he sighed. "They don't make pizza like that here."

"No, they don't."

"What kind do you like?" he asked, about to take another bite of pizza.

She smiled sheepishly. "Vegetarian."

His face fell. "Oh, man. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," she said quickly. "Since this one was meatless, I just thought maybe we had that in common."

He laughed. "This one isn't vegetarian, sweetheart. It's cheese. It's a little cheaper, and...oh, damn." He frowned and ran his hand over his head. "Woman, I keep putting my foot in it every five seconds with you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said.

He shook his head. "No, it isn't. I'm out here with a pretty girl, enjoying a pizza and some 'Dew, and I can't keep my cool."

Derek leaned forward, sighing and looking downright dejected. It broke her heart, considering how sweet and kind he'd been to her. She didn't care if he insulted her pizza style, or talked about his money—or lack thereof. He was a good man, and she liked him.

"I don't need cool," she answered softly and honestly. "Just you is fine."

Looking back at her, he smiled. "You, sweetness, are one of a kind."

She nodded. "That's me."

"So, you said you wanted us to have pizza in common," Derek asked, taking a big bite of pizza.

Ooh. That wasn't what she was expecting. She swallowed her bite of pizza, and it slid down slowly, making her eyes water.

He laughed and then held out the bottle of soda to her. "Want some?"

Taking the bottle, she removed the cap, took a sip, and then coughed into her hand. "Thanks."

He was waiting patiently, an eager look on his face. "Don't want to answer that question?"

She coughed again. "Well, we don't have a lot in common, Derek."

He shrugged. "So?"

She hadn't expected that answer, either. Her mind was whirling for a good response, and she finally came up with, "Well, people base friendships on what they have in common."

"Sociology 101?"

That made her giggle, because he was right. "Mmm hmm. But I agree with it."

"You do."

Penelope enjoyed a good debate. So, although he sounded somewhat disappointed, she continued. "I mean, common interests _are_ important—similar likes in order to enjoy the same things and discuss things on the same level."

"That's true."

"And," she added, rather excited to use her new-found knowledge, "it means less arguing, being more agreeable. Common interests equal kindred spirits."

"And we don't have that."

Her little bubble she was riding on deflated. "I guess not."

Derek sighed and put the pizza box aside. "Well, then, we are doomed to this one night."

A lump that had nothing to do with pizza formed in her throat. "Yeah."

"Garcia!" Emily's voice called out from above. "There's room checks in fifteen!"

Penelope's mouth fell open. They did room checks at midnight! Had they been out there together that long? It didn't feel that long. She checked her watch: 11:45 p.m. "Oh, frack. I'd better go in."

Derek nodded. "You'd better."

"I guess this is it," she said with a sigh. She smiled gently. "Thanks for the pizza."

"No problem."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She started walking toward the ladder, her heart heavy and sad. She _liked_ Derek Morgan. As a person, as a hot guy, as a friend. She plain old liked him...even if they had zero interests in common.

"Hey, Baby Girl?"

She turned as she reached her ladder. "Yes?"

"I don't believe in all that sociology crap," he said in a matter-of-factly. "See you tomorrow?"

Penelope beamed, which made it impossible to talk. She simply nodded rapidly as her ecstatic response.

She smiled all the way up her ladder...and she continued to smile as she got ready for bed, and even past room check time. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! Here come the first posting this week, with another familiar face...

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**Chapter 6**

That pizza night started many nights and days of the two of them spending free time together. So much so that everyone around the campus thought Morgan and Garcia were inseparable. Their names became synonymous with finding one another. If someone was looking for Morgan, they could find him eating ice cream with Garcia. If someone was looking for Garcia, they could find her learning how to throw the perfect Frisbee toss with Morgan.

It was an interesting match, to say the least. Penelope had been right that night in one way—they didn't have very many shared interests. However, as much as they _didn't _have in common, they still held each other in high regard and loved each other's company. The adage "opposites attract" worked for them in spades. It was like they found in each other a willing ear, a completely new audience for their tales, and a different perspective on problems.

Being older and more mature—in his own mind only—Derek took it on himself to school Penelope and show her the ropes of college life. His face lit up with pleasure when he could share some of his knowledge to make things easier for her and to break his sweet, funny little friend out of her shell.

Some of the things he taught her had far less merit...

"You'd never heard of 'quarters'?" he asked, absolutely incredulous. They were sitting on the couch on the front porch of his frat house. She was becoming a fixture there. "Everyone's heard of that."

"Not everyone," she said, shaking her head. "Not me."

He laughed and tucked her closer to his side. "Ah, my protege, you have much to learn."

She giggled, smiling, and slid closer to his lean, lightly muscled side with a sigh. Derek was the best: flirty, fun, and exciting, but with a heart of gold. She adored him, so much so that the scent of his cologne—a cheap knockoff of a woodsy department store brand—made her heart beat faster.

Curiosity killed the Penelope. "What is it, anyway?"

"A drinking game," he explained, his long-fingered hand rubbing the cap of her shoulder as he talked. "You and your opponent bounce quarters off the table, trying to get it to land in a beer cup. If his lands in and yours doesn't, you have to drink the entire cup of beer, fast. It can make you sick."

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Sounds awful."

The thought made her stomach churn. She didn't like beer in the first place, and she had to sip it. Why do something if it was going to make her puke?

"No, it's fun," Derek argued. "You—"

"Morgan, you comin' camping at the bluffs tonight?" Jagger, one of Derek's teammates, interrupted. He came out of the house, a bag slung over his shoulder. "Some of the guys and a few of the girls are heading out."

"Yeah, I'll go," Derek said quickly.

Penelope felt her heart sink. They'd been together for the last few weekends—except when he was working or on dates with lucky girls—and she was going to miss him terribly. However, she knew he needed to team build and be with others, not just herself.

Steering up her resolve, she grinned brightly up at him. "Have fun with your team, my fantastic, football-flinging friend."

He smiled down at her. "You wanna come with?"

Surprise rolled through her. "I can? I mean—"

"Of course you can," he said. "You heard him say they're bringing girls."

"Usually that's a girlfriend," she said, arching a brow at him. She knew the others were bringing their dates, and she was not Morgan's girlfriend by any stretch of her imagination...no matter how much she wished she was.

"And I choose to bring you," he said, kissing the top of her head. "My girl...friend."

Filled with bittersweet happiness, she feigned lightness and teased, "Thanks, sweet stuff."

"Go pack," he said, standing up. He held her hands and gave her a very fast boost to her feet. "Grab a sweatshirt. It's cold, and we're gonna be taking my bike."

"I thought your motorcycle was broken."

"Not anymore. The auto shop guys fixed it for me." He grinned, slinging an arm around her waist and leading her to the edge of the steps.

"That's wonderful!"

"Chicken delivery money put to good use."

She giggled. "True!"

"No time to talk," he said, gently swatting her bottom and making her yelp in surprise. "Hurry. We're leaving this afternoon."

"When?" she asked.

"About an hour."

She heard his chuckle as she began to run off the porch to her own house.

* * *

Penelope cuddled up against Derek, enjoying the feel of the wind blowing through her hair and the warm strength of Derek against her chest as his cycle growled down the road. The bluffs were a beautiful, natural spot down a long, curvy road, only an hour from the college. Because of the proximity and the basic lack of supervision, it was an immensely popular place with a lot of the students.

Penelope had never been there before, but she'd heard word of it from others. As they pulled into the drive, she could see views of cliffs, trees, and natural water. There were plenty of picnic tables and fire pits, with spots for day camping.

When they arrived at the campground area, most of Alpha Phi and their female athletic sorority, Sigma Beta, were already there, setting up camp.

"Morgan!" Jagger called out above the roar of Derek's refurbished motorcycle. When they moved closer to him, he said, "We're saving a spot for ya!"

Derek pulled into the side parking lot, and Penelope slung her leg off his cycle. She felt a little bowlegged, but soon gained her land legs again. Feeling came back to her legs quickly, along with an urge to go to the bathroom.

Morgan wrapped a steadying arm around her and then greeted the other man with a handshake and a half hug. "Jag."

"Morgs," he said, gesturing toward the tent. "We're staying here. We got room for your sleeping bags."

"I got mine." Derek gave her a look. "You got yours in your bag, sweetheart?"

She shook her head. "I don't have one. I've never been camping, so I didn't need it."

Derek shrugged. "You can share mine."

A wash of panic and delight rolled over Penelope at the same time. Holy cow, how would she handle that close contact...?

"That's okay," a pretty blonde woman with bright blue eyes remarked, wrapping her arm around Jagger's waist. "I brought an extra you can use."

"Thank you," Penelope said, both relieved and disappointed at the same time. A strange duality of feeling that somehow made perfect sense.

"This is my new girlfriend, Jennifer," Jagger said with a grin.

Before anyone else could talk, someone interrupted, shouting from a distance away. "Morgan! Jag! Let's toss the ball before we start a fire."

Giving her a look, Derek asked, "You gonna be okay, Baby Girl?"

She started to nod, but before she finished, Derek was off to catch a high pass thrown at him. That left Penelope standing awkwardly with the new girl.

Penelope nodded and smiled softly at the pretty blonde. She hoped she was friendly. Not everyone in Derek's house or social circle was friendly. Not even remotely.

"Hi," the new girl said shyly. "I'm Jennifer."

"Hi." Before an uncomfortable silence could start again, Penlope began, "So, Jennifer. Where are you from?"

"I'm from Pennsylvania on a volleyball scholarship. I'm just starting school here this fall."

Penelope gave her a warm, welcoming smile. "That's great!"

"I'm trying to get to know everyone." Jennifer looked around. "It's not easy."

Penelope giggled. "It's not. There's a ton of people here, especially in the athletic programs."

Jennifer focused on her boyfriend and Derek, who were wrestling. "Anthony talks a lot about Morgan. He's pretty popular."

"He is."

"Are you his girlfriend?" Jennifer asked.

Penelope shook her head. "No. Just a friend."

Jennifer smiled and exclaimed, "I thought so!"

For a second, Penelope cringed and bristled. "I know I am not usually the type that Morgan dates, but—"

"Whoa. Hold up," Jennifer interrupted calmly. "I saw that you were uncomfortable sharing a sleeping bag, so I assumed you weren't exclusive yet. Or at least not yet."

"Oh." Embarrassed at her overreaction, Penelope began to apologize. "I'm sorry I flew off the handle."

"It's okay." The wind blew a long strand of hair over Jennifer's face; she shoved it out of the way. "I probably sounded a little too thrilled that I gauged your reaction right." She grinned brilliantly. "I'm a sociology major; I live for reading expressions."

Penelope shook her head. "Oh, no. It wasn't that. It's just... the other girls...I'm..."

She bit her bottom lip and looked down at the ground. How did she say the truth without sounded catty and disrespectful? Besides, Jennifer was probably friends with those girls, and-

A warm hand touched Penelope's arm, and caused her to look upward into lovely, understanding eyes.

"Hey," she said softly. "I've only been dating Anthony a couple of weeks, but I already know how catty some of the other girls can be."

Relief rolled over Penelope. She smiled brightly, a smile she reserved only for Derek most of the time. "Can we start over?" She extended her hand. "I'm Penelope, but most of my friends call me Pen or Garcie."

The blonde girl readily accepted her hand. "Hey, Garcie. I'm Jennifer, but my friends call me JJ."

Penelope beamed at her. "I'd be honored to call you that."

"A new friend. This night is going to be perfect," JJ remarked. She bit her bottom lip and started to look around. "If only I could find a bathroom..."

Penelope was about to start dancing, she had to go so badly. "You too?"

JJ snickered. "My teeth are floating!"

Both girls laughed, and the new friends ran toward a picnic shelter in search of a potty.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I hope you all enjoy this chapter...I'm rather proud of it!

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**Chapter 7**

After playing most of the day, the team, their girlfriends, Derek, and Penelope all relaxed around a roaring campfire, talking and telling stories. Derek had noticed Penelope had spent most of the afternoon with the new girl, JJ, while he'd spent the day playing football with the guys. It had been a lot of fun, but he'd been looking forward to this—relaxing and talking with Penelope. Although she'd only been a few feet away, he'd missed her.

They chatted about school, football, what they were doing with their lives, and just about nothing. They sat side by side on their sleeping bags, Penelope in one of her baggy T-shirts and her loose jeans, and Derek in his jeans and jersey.

"What's your mom like?" Penelope asked softly, leaning against his side. The fire was dying down, casting low lights on her creamy white skin. She looked stunning, but she was shivering slightly.

Derek wrapped his arm around her in an attempt to warm her up. "She's strong. One of the strongest women I've ever known, and I am not just saying that because she's my momma. She had a lot to deal with, raising us three kids after my dad died, but she never complained. She made us all feel special and loved, even working as much as she did."

"That's sad that she had to work so hard."

"When dad died, there was some pension and life insurance, but it went quickly," Derek explained. "She had some bad advice with some investments, and they didn't pan out."

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Derek's father had been the definite man about the house. He'd handled finances, and his mother had been content being a housewife. After his father died, she'd done night school and gotten her nursing degree. She'd worked crazy hours, trying to keep food on the table and clothes on their backs. Unfortunately, the kids in the house, the oldest being Derek at ten, had had to fend for themselves quite often. He'd known that she was doing what she had to do; Derek had never resented her or felt that he was missing out.

Well...maybe once.

He swallowed hard, feeling guilty for even thinking that about his sainted mother. He cleared his throat. "She wished she could've been there more."

"I'm sure."

Derek paused and then sighed. "That maybe if she..."

Derek could feel the blood drain from his cheeks. Damn! He'd been about to tell Penelope his darkest secret. He'd never told anyone, but for some reason, he felt like he could tell her. That he _should_ tell her.

More than that...he _wanted_ to tell her.

"Derek?" she whispered softly after he hadn't spoken for a long time. She was looking up at him, waiting patiently, concern in those big, whiskey brown eyes of hers. That wasn't like her; she was usually pretty impatient and a touch pushy. It was like she knew something big was going to happen, like she sensed it, and knew she needed to just be there, listening and caring.

He took a deep breath and then began slowly, "When I was younger, I ran with a bad crowd and got in trouble. There wasn't nothing my mom could've done; I was hell bent on being a rebel." He frowned. "I'd thought, my dad was a good man, and what had it gotten him?"

She leaned closer to him, held him a bit tighter.

"After being arrested, I went to a program at the community center. They helped me, showed me football."

"That's great," she said. Something in his expression must've caused her to pause, because she hesitated and cautiously added, "Right?"

Derek took a deep breath. "The man that ran that program...he wasn't a good man, Penelope. He...did things to me that grown men shouldn't do to twelve-year-old boys."

"Oh, love bug." Her soft whisper held compassion, not pity.

He was quiet for a long time before he sighed softly. "I don't know why I told you that. I've never told anyone that before."

They were both silent for a long time, as if the words he'd said needed to reverberate, situate, and absorb for both of them.

"Can I ask a question?" she whispered.

Now he was hesitant. "Uh...sure."

"What's his name?" Penelope murmured. "The man that hurt you."

"Carl Buford," he answered flatly. "Why?"

"I need to know his name so that if I ever run past him, I can spit on him."

That made him smile—she was his staunch little defender. He pulled her even closer and kissed the top of her head. "It's okay, honey. It made me who I am. Now, I'm gonna catch bastards like him."

She hugged him. "My hero."

He chuckled. "I don't know about that."

She looked up at him, her big brown eyes shining at him with admiration. "I do."

For a moment, Derek contemplated kissing her. She was so kissable at that moment, her beautiful lips, pouty and ripe, her skin dewy and touched by the glow of the embers of the dying campfire. As he looked around them, he noticed others were kissing, making out, probably fucking, and he felt a surge of lust, which was not uncommon for a twenty-one-year-old male.

Somewhere in the depths of Derek's mind, in his soul, he realized something. Being here with her, what he was feeling, it was so much more than the sex happening around them. It was more than just want and heat and fire, something he could ease in any willing body. It was more than anything he'd ever experienced before...but he didn't know what exactly it was.

It was humbling, and a touch frightening, how much he cared about her.

That brought him back to reality. This was Penelope. His sweet little friend. He didn't want to sully that friendship, or do anything to ruin it. Sex ruined a lot of things, and he wasn't the kind that liked to stop with kissing. Sure, he wanted her, and the look on her innocent face told him he could have her if he only tried—but he wasn't sure what that would mean to either of them.

Penelope glanced around at the other couples, and he could see her cheeks heating, even in the dim lighting. She bit her bottom lip and winced. "I suppose you wish you'd brought with Kelsey or Martina instead of me now."

"No," he answered her quickly. Derek tucked her closer and reiterated his thoughts. "Hell, no. I got my friend with me. Ain't nothing better than that."

Someone nearby tossed another log on the fire, and Penelope and Derek sat together, holding each other, and watched the pinks, blues, and lavenders coat the sky with the setting of the sun.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews! Here we go with the next chapter...It's really big, so maybe that makes up for the wait a bit?

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**Chapter 8**

It shouldn't have worked so well. The two should've parted over lack of commonalities. The jock and the quirky girl, from two separate worlds; the twain would never meet.

Yet somehow, they made it work.

Penelope thought Derek had a lot of hidden talents. A lot of people saw Morgan as one of the frat boys, but she knew better. He was far more than a hunky body and a gorgeous face; there was a brain with quick wit, depth of character, and a great sense of humor behind those deep, chocolate brown eyes.

That didn't mean she wasn't like the many other co-eds on the campus who could simply stare at those eyes for days. She wasn't immune to Derek's many charms. Not in the slightest!

Still, she knew what she was, and she wasn't going to push. She was Derek's friend, his good friend, and she was honored to have that title. He'd really reached out to her for some reason—she didn't know exactly know why he'd done it. She was simply glad that he had.

In the past two months, they'd become inseparable. Penelope tagged along with Derek wherever he went, mostly because he didn't allow her to say no. He introduced her to other students—his friends—showing them the "new girl." People were generally friendly, although she'd been at the campus for three months already, and she wasn't really new anymore. She'd even had classes with some of the people who feigned surprise at meeting her. Somehow, Derek worked his magical charm, smiling and welcoming her, and most other students simply followed his lead.

However, not everyone was nice—especially some of Derek's housemates and their girlfriends.

In the beginning, Penelope wouldn't even step across the doorway. To enter Gamma Phi was akin to breaching the enemy line. She'd been picked on and jeered at by his housemates in the past, both before and after she'd started her friendship with Derek. They'd never done it in front of Derek, of course, and she'd never mentioned it to him, either. She didn't want to be a bother to him. She'd been terrified; going into his house meant a possible replay of those incidents, and she simply wanted peace.

After many pleading moments, he'd cajoled her into coming to his frat house to help him study. His house had far less stringent rules and regulations than hers did. The GP boys could have visitors—women, especially—at all hours of the day and night, as long as they kept their grades where they needed to be and played ball accordingly for the school. Penelope's sorority had study/social hours that ended at eight p.m. That didn't work for Derek.

Derek finished work at the Chicken Shack most days after eight. Because Derek was older and closer to graduation, he had more tests than she did. Good friend that she was, Penelope had agreed to help him study. Derek wanted to be a police officer someday, like his dad. Penelope didn't want anything to do with that kind of career—she was petrified of guns and loud noises, and her mom and stepdad were total pacifists. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but it would probably involve technology. That was an up-and-coming field, and her parents had mentioned that she should look into that when she was done with her generals.

So at eight forty most nights, Penelope and Derek would be sitting at an empty table in Gamma Phi, with a criminal justice book open between them. That night followed suit.

"Did you read chapter twelve?" she asked with a hopeful grin.

One look at the strained expression on Derek's face, and Penelope's bubble of hope popped.

"D..."

"Baby, I'm sorry," he explained. "I worked late at Lonnie's."

"Angelfish," she said, warming up the lecture she was about to give, "you need to focus on this book."

"I'm trying."

"Not enough."

"Woman, I am."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you want to be slinging chicken instead of a gun for the rest of your life?"

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Point taken, sweetness."

Penelope snuggled into his side and sighed happily. "Thank you, honeybunch."

Nicknames flowed easily between them. The two of them teased each other a lot. He called her sweetheart and all sorts of names, and she returned the favor with gusto. Derek was a sexy man who liked to tell dirty jokes and flirt to make her blush. She knew it didn't mean anything—Derek had girlfriends—but it was fun to have someone with whom to be affectionate.

He huffed. "I wish I didn't need the cash. I'm burning myself out."

She patted his hand. "I know, but you can do it, Derek."

Sinking back in his chair, he yawned hugely, scratching his chest, and then he began to rub his bloodshot eyes. "Man, P, I'm just so tired."

Giving him a sweet, soft smile of encouragement, she opened the book. "Come on. One chapter. We'll read together, side by side."

With a begrudging grumble, Derek sat back up, tugged his chair in, and leaned next to her.

Penelope held back a sigh. She could feel his warmth against her, his hip pressed against hers, his thigh aligned with hers. He felt so good, so hard and strong. Everywhere she touched him, her body seemed to tingle, and her nipples rose to hard little peaks. She was grateful she was wearing a heavy sweatshirt so he didn't know what his close proximity did to her.

"Coming to the house party this weekend?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. She would feel kind of awkward at a frat kegger.

"Come on. All your girls are invited," he said.

That shocked her. She couldn't imagine Prentiss stepping foot into Gamma Phi, or any of those guys wanting them here. "Oh. O-Okay. I'll tell them."

"You sound surprised," he murmured softly.

"I am," she replied honestly.

"Why?"

She didn't want to pussyfoot around it, not with Derek. "I don't think my house has ever been invited to one of your house's parties."

"Sure we did," he replied with certainty. He must've felt less certain, looking at her, because he frowned, deep in thought, and then looked at her and questioned, "Didn't we?"

She shook her head.

He gave a half grin. "Well, I guess we should remedy that right now."

She smiled back. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He yawned again and then asked her, "Can you read it out loud, Baby Girl?"

She nodded. "Of course."

Penelope began to read the absolutely monotonous text and hoped that her voice wasn't sounding as bland as the material. She felt like she was droning on and on. Derek was silent; she started to fear he'd fallen asleep. After a while, she glanced up from the book to check on him and found that he was staring at her.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"You."

She blushed. "You're supposed to be listening and learning."

"You have pretty hair," he said, ignoring what she'd said and reaching up to tug on a curly tendril.

She shook her head. She didn't. It was dull, dark blonde and naturally curly. Not anything anyone would write home about. "I—"

Before she could protest, he moved the honeyed strands between his fingers, as if he was memorizing the texture of her hair. She held her breath as he tucked it behind her ear, the scratchy feel of his hard-working hands against her temple sending shoots of awareness through her body. Lazily, he brought his fingertips to her earring and gave it a touch before murmuring, "I've wanted to do that for days."

She was wearing little bells—a present from her mom for Christmas. They jingled when she walked.

"Thank you," she whispered, and he brought his gaze back to her. She was looking into those gorgeous dark eyes, and it felt like she was falling into them. Falling...falling...

"Morgan!" one of his housemates called from the kitchen before peeping around the corner. "You want a—" He paused and glanced at Penelope. "Oh. Never mind."

"Want what?" Derek asked.

"A beer," the guy—Penelope couldn't remember his name, but he was number forty-one on the football team, an offensive lineman who was truly offensive said. He sneered at Penelope. "But never mind. _She's_ here. She might be offended. Hers is a teetotaler house."

The way he said the word—Penelope was surprised the big galoot could remember the word teetotaler—was a definite slight, but she smiled gently and let peace reign.

"Go ahead. I'm not offended," she said, but the man ignored her and continued.

"So, I'm gonna find more—" number forty-one paused to sneer "—pleasant company."

"Hey, man," D said. "Penelope's cool. She's a little sweetheart."

"Gar-ry," a whiny, thin blonde—the woman was literally clinging to the mound that was Gary—said. Penelope recognized her as Crystal Banks, one of the less-friendly girls on campus. "Why are you wasting our night? Let's gooooooo."

"A little sweetheart?" Gary stared at Penelope like she was a bug he wanted to stomp. "Man, you need glasses."

Penelope could feel Derek tense. "What did you say?"

Gary crossed his arms over his chest. "She's more like a little _pest_, Morgs. Always underfoot."

"Take that back," Derek growled, standing up and glaring the much-larger man down.

Penelope stood as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. "I should really go—"

"Baby, don't," Derek said, grasping her hand. He looked over at his housemate. "Carlson, she's a good girl. She's my friend, and she's helping me out. Everyone else loves her."

"Oh, they love her all right," Gary snapped sarcastically. "'Cause you keep shoving that little bitch down their throats."

Derek was so angry that Penelope could feel the fury rolling off him, yet his voice was low and somewhat calm when he spoke. "That's funny."

"How?" Gary stupidly asked.

That calm tone was gone as Derek retorted, "Because I'm gonna shove my fuckin' _fist _down your throat."

"Yeah?"

"Apologize to the lady," Derek snarled. "_Now_."

Carlson narrowed his eyes. "Make me!"

Within a second, Derek released Penelope's hand and vaulted over the table. The beer Carlson had been holding went flying in the air in an arc as the two men collided and fell to the floor.

The blonde stood there and rolled her eyes, as if she were bored, and then she glared over at Penelope. "This is all your fault."

Penelope could barely breathe. She gasped, turning pale as she watched the two men roll on the floor, trading punches and insults. Every once in a while, Penelope would hear Derek say, "Take it back!" and Carlson saying "Fuck you!"

Another man walked in—Mark Brown, a nice cornerback she'd met a few weeks before.

"Oh, please, help me stop them," she begged him.

He didn't listen. Instead, he smiled and called out up the stairs, "Hey, guys! Fight!"

A barrage of testosterone came from the top of the stairs, and Penelope was shoved to the back with Brown.

"Why did you do that?" she yelled over the din.

He grinned at her. "This happens once a month or so over here."

She was astounded. "It does?"

He looked surprised. "Hell, yes. Don't you ladies hear us over there?"

"No!"

If she had, she would've called the cops. These two were killing each other. She could hear grunts and the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh.

"Aww," Brown said, sounding disappointed. "What happened, anyway?"

"C-Carlson insulted me," she stammered, feeling awful.

Brown winced. "Ooh. Dumb move. Everyone knows you don't insult Morgan's Baby Girl." Before she could say more, a really loud crunching sound happened, which caused Mark to smile and Penelope to cover her eyes. She didn't know whose nose just broke, but she'd simply die if it was Derek's.

The answer came from Mark a second later. "Damn, that was a hell of a roundhouse punch. Good one, Morgan!"

"Shit, I give," Carlson shouted, holding his nose. With a few grunts of disappointment, the crowd began to disperse.

Derek was panting from exertion, bleeding from a cut on his chin, and his eye was already beginning to close. "Ap-pologize to the lady."

From the floor, Carlson looked up at Penelope and glared. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she whispered, and although she'd done nothing wrong, she said, "I'm sorry, too."

As Derek rose to his feet, and in a show of good sportsmanship, he gave Gary a hand and helped him to his feet.

Carlson was less of a good sport.

"I don't see what the big deal is," he grumbled. "She's not your girlfriend or nothin'."

"She's a friend. A very good friend," Derek said cautiously.

Carlson shook his head, wiping blood from his nose, and began to snicker. "That's no surprise, is it?"

"Gary, man," Brown said with warning.

Carlson got a nasty smile. "One look at her, and you know—she 's infinitely unfuckable."

Crystal burst out in a high, chattering laughter.

Without preamble, Derek turned and threw a punch, knocking the other man back to the ground...and down for the count. By the time he turned back to Penelope, she was still standing by Mark, frozen in place.

It was too much for her.

Derek was looking at her with a worried expression. "Baby Girl?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Penelope—"

"I...I..."

With tears in her eyes, she turned and ran out the door.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews. I'm sorry I am slow in updating and answering, BUT I have vacation (A staycation at my house!) next week, and I am going to catch completely up...and update more! Whoo hoo! In the meantime, this is a huge chapter; I hope that makes up for some of the wait...

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"What's the matter with you lately?" Emily asked, looking up from _Into the Mind _by David Rossi when Penelope entered the room. "You look like someone shot your puppy."

Penelope's already acidy stomach churned more. Although her heart was sore, she really didn't want to talk about what had happened—especially not with Prentiss, who didn't have the highest opinion of jocks.

But mostly, she didn't want to talk about what had happened, because it was too painful to remember.

Derek had begun to mean so much to her, and knowing she'd caused dissidence and strife in his house had broken her heart. Five minutes after the fight, he'd tried to talk to her, but it had been too late. Her house was closed, and she was sequestered in for the night. It was okay with Penelope—she'd been too shaken to talk...and the next day, she'd had too much time to think.

She didn't belong with him.

Derek was a good man, a truly kind, wonderful person. He'd suffered enough in his life; he didn't need issues with his housemates. Truth be told, she didn't belong at Gamma Phi. After what Carlson had said, she'd felt awkward and unwelcome. Derek could continue"forcing" her down other people's throats, but would only be a matter of time before someone snapped again.

The snapping wouldn't bother her. She could've begged Derek to let those things slide—she would've let it slide—but she knew him. He was far too noble to let her name be mud. Derek would fight all comers for her, regardless of what it cost him. So, she had no choice. She had to be the noble one. She needed to break off this budding friendship before she caused irreparable damage.

For an entire week, she'd avoided him like the plague. He'd waited outside her art class, and luckily for her, the horny girls in her class had swamped him—after his modeling stunt, no one had forgotten who he was—and she'd been able to sneak out. He'd waited on his front step for her, left messages, and called.

He'd even been by the picnic tables late at night.

She sighed miserably and hopelessly. Truly, it was better this way, to cut ties with him and his friendship. Her heart was half gone already; she could fall in love with him so easily. There was so much to love about Derek Morgan. He was honorable, kind, looked out for underdogs like herself, and was so sexy, it was lethal. With him, she felt like the only girl in the world. He mentioned often that she was his best girl, his sweet little friend, and mostly, his one and only Baby Girl.

That being said, he also dated multiple girls on a regular basis, at least four or five. He was never without a date on a Friday, Saturday, or any other night he chose—unless he wasn't in the mood. Black, white, redhead, of Asian persuasion...it didn't matter. Being young and filled with testosterone, he was almost _always_ in the mood.

Except when it came to her...the "infinitely unfuckable."

Wincing, Penelope ignored Prentiss and climbed up into her top bunk. She knew better to wish for anything like that with Derek. He could have anyone; why would he ever go for a plain Jane virgin?

Besides, it was never going to happen. Yesterday, Derek had finally gotten the message and had given up coming by. She tried to smile. It was definitely better this way, before she had her heart broken to the point of no return. Better to have this dull ache of stupidity over unrequited love for a man way the hell out of her league.

She rolled to her side and gasped as she came nose to nose with Emily. She'd stood up and was on level with the bunk.

"I'm a good ear, Garcia," she said flatly, but there was a lack of sarcasm in her expression, something rare for Prentiss. Even her eyes were warm and spoke of compassion. "What happened between you and Derek?"

"Nothing," she muttered, moving to a seated position. "It's...nothing."

Prentiss arched a brow.

Penelope sighed. "Nothing I want to talk about."

Her roommate sighed even louder. "Hey, this isn't easy for me to admit," Emily grumbled, looking away for a second before bringing her gaze back to Penelope, "but I think I was wrong about Morgan. I think he really cares about you."

"I know he does," Penelope said softly. "I care about him, too."

Prentiss tossed up her hands. "Then why are you shoving him away? Even I feel bad for him, walking away with his gorgeous tail tucked between his legs night after night. I mean—"

"Garcia! You have a visitor!" someone called from downstairs, interrupting Emily.

"See?" Emily said, shaking her head. "There he is again."

Penelope's heart skipped a beat just as panic rose in her chest. "You don't understand. It's for his own good."

"Good? He looks miserable."

"I know," she whined, "but—hey!"

Prentiss gave her a rough tug so that she slid off the bunk and landed on her feet. "Go see him. Now."

"Em..."

"Now, PG," Prentiss snapped, shoving her out the door and then shutting it quickly. A second later, Penelope heard the unmistakable sound of the door locking.

A wash of nerves rolled over her. She hadn't seen Derek in forever, and she didn't know if she could face him. Her resolve, in the face of those fantastic brown eyes, always melted and disappeared. Derek could get her to do anything, go anywhere, be anything. He gave her wings, helped her fly, and was there to catch her if she faltered.

He was her hero...so just once, she needed to be his.

Swallowing hard, she turned the corner and was surprised to see Mark Brown standing in her foyer, not Derek.

"Mark," she said, descending the staircase. "What are you doing here?"

She noticed how nervous he looked there. Usually, in the frat house surrounded by his guys, he looked charming and at ease. Here seemed to be a wholly different story.

Mark, with his blond hair and blue eyes, did to light good looks the same thing that Derek did to dark. Suddenly, multiple girls came out of the woodwork to giggle and chatter about him. Unlike Derek, Brown didn't have quite the same confidence level that Morgan had to pull it off with aplomb. However, he was just a freshman back-up quarterback, not a junior varsity star like Derek.

He shot her a shy smile, blushing slightly as he did so. "Ah...hi, Penelope. How are you?"

"I'm okay." She glanced around the room and saw how the ladies were staring and how Mark was trying to look straight forward at her to avoid them. He'd been so kind and welcoming to her, she wanted to return the favor. "Would you like to go to the sitting room?"

Mark beamed. "I'd love that."

The two of them entered the sitting room, and she closed the doors enough that the girls would have to stack up to peer in. Mark took a seat, and Penelope sat next to him.

"I take it Derek sent you?" she asked. It was really more of a statement than a question; she was pretty sure she knew the answer to that.

"Actually, no," he said, surprising her. "I came here on my own accord. But," he added pointedly, "Morgan has been pretty damn miserable to be around the last week."

She blushed and hung her head. "I'm sorry."

Mark shrugged. "No reason to be sorry. That's between you two."

"Thanks," she mumbled gratefully.

"We're having a party tomorrow."

She chuckled. "Didn't you just have one two weeks ago?"

"Nope. After the fight, our frat superiors said we needed a cool-off period," Mark explained. "So we couldn't have that party."

Penelope winced. Yet another punishment she'd unwittingly dolled onto Derek.

"But I'm here for another reason." He turned so that he was facing her head on. "Penelope, I'd like to know if you'd be my date for the party tomorrow night?"

Penelope blinked. "Wow."

"I've gotten to talk to you a few times at the house when you were helping Morgan, and you seem like a really nice, sweet girl. Not like the ones that are usually around the house, and not like Alice, my ex—"

As Mark continued talking, Penelope realized how grateful she was for that. Alice had been a grade-A bitch the few times she'd had the misfortune of dealing with her over at Gamma Phi.

"—and I would really like you to go with me," he continued, that same hopeful smile on his face.

Penelope smiled, but shook her head. "Mark, thank you, but no. I don't belong there."

"Why do you think that?" he asked.

"Last time I was at your house, Gary Carlson and Derek nearly sent each other to the hospital!"

He waved a hand in dismissal. "That happens all the time there, Penelope."

Her heart clenched. How badly she wanted to say yes, even if just to see Derek again, but she knew the reason for the fight. "Mark, you heard them, what they were fighting about. I don't belong."

"Listen," he said softly. "Not everyone agrees with Carlson. Some do, but they're unimportant. Just...come with me. Please. Don't let someone like Gary keep you from having fun and from being with your friends."

She let that register, and her heart began to lift. God, she'd been a fool. She wasn't being a hero. She was letting her own cowardice, her fear of falling in love with Derek, ruin their friendship. She was being so unfair. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't falling in love with her, too.

As she was wobbling in her decision, Mark continued.

"I know it would mean a lot to Derek," he added, meeting her eyes. "He misses you, Penelope."

Penelope felt her heart swell, and before her mind could warn her off, she said, "I'll go."

* * *

Derek was going out of his mind. He missed his buddy. She was special to him; he loved to protect and care for her. She made him smile and laugh, and she was a great conversationalist. He had more fun with her than he did with the countless women he dated. He needed her. God in heaven, he needed her far more than he needed the ego boost and nameless sex he got from all of the other women combined.

How in the hell had that happened over a few month time span?

Derek knew he was looking desperate. Day after day, he'd shown up at Penelope's classes, her house, everywhere he could possibly find her besides the ladies' toilet, and he never got a chance to see her.

The very last time, he'd even stopped by her house with a meatless pizza. That hadn't gone so well...

"_Whom do you need to speak with?" Penelope's housemother, a stern, older blonde, asked. It was amazing she would even need to ask; Derek came asking for Penelope nearly every day._

_Always Penelope. Only Penelope._

"_Hi, Mrs. Strauss. I am here for Penelope," he answered politely. "Is she in?"_

_Erin looked down her nose at him. "I am sorry. Penelope asked not to be disturbed."_

_Derek didn't bother to hide his crestfallen look. He was devastated, and the world could tell as far as he was concerned. "Oh...okay."_

_Erin was about to shut the door, when Derek put his foot in between to prevent her._

_Mrs. Strauss gave him a haughty, icy look. "Mr. Morgan__—"_

"_Listen," Derek pleaded. "Please, just listen a second."_

_Strauss sighed heavily, and then a flash of compassion rolled over her cool feature. She nodded. "Go ahead."_

"_Can you tell __her __that __Friday__ night, there's a get-together at my place? I'd really love to see her."_

_Her lips clamped into a thin line. "Housemothers cannot take party invitations for our pledges. It's strictly against policy."_

"_Please," he begged. "Just once."_

"_I'll tell her," Strauss replied, and from her dismissive tone, he knew she wasn't going to tell Penelope a fucking word he'd said. "Please remove your foot."_

That night, and every night before, Derek returned home, dejected and crestfallen. Derek had tried everything he could think of to show he cared, but she seemed not to care in return. He couldn't believe that. He couldn't. They'd shared so much—he'd talked to her about their pasts and futures—and one thing he knew about Penelope was that she was caring and kind and loving.

And he couldn't get over how right she'd felt in his arms by the campfire.

Damn. He knew he needed to get over her. The girl had showed him in the past week that she wanted nothing to do with him, not even friendship anymore. Facing facts, he realized sadly that maybe she just didn't need him like he needed her?

His heart crushed in his chest as he thought about that.

Grumbling, he held the luscious, voluptuous redhead he was dancing with in his arms and tried to ignore what his heart was telling him, loud and clear...

Somehow, he'd fallen in love with someone he'd never even kissed.

Swaying, he buried his face in the girl's copper curls, trying to focus. This woman was a dynamo in bed, an easy gymnast with matching copper curls between her legs, who was available anytime he snapped his fingers. She'd be a great distraction, fun and exciting.

But as he held her, the scent of expensive, powdery perfume and hairspray came wafting upward to his nose. It was nothing like Penelope's fresh peach and honey scent. He missed that scent, so clean and light and honest. This woman smelled dark and musky, filled with artifice. He didn't like it. Damn it, he didn't like _her_. Not like...

Fuck.

He was a goner. He'd even begged for her. He'd _never_ begged for a woman before in his life. Not once. Not ever.

The party lost all of its charm, deflating in Derek's mind like a popped balloon. It was time to call it a night and send this poor girl off to someone more deserving. Maybe one of his luckier teammates could show her a good time?

"Trina," he said, raising his head.

"Thalia," she purred in reply, smiling up at him with a come-hither look.

He blushed, but only for a second. If she didn't care that he screwed up her name, why should he? "Listen, I'm..."

He paused, his heart catching in his throat as something drew his gaze.

Like a ray of light, Penelope walked through his door...

On another man's arm.


	10. Chapter 10

_A Special A/N: _

_Hi Everyone! Well, my staycation turned into a vacation of sorts. Due to all the family drama and stress, Shawn, hubby and my personal Morgan, swept me away for four days up on the North Shore of Minnesota, hiking to see waterfalls and other totally gorgeous—yet non-techno—things. No internet connection, but a really fun time. I posted pics under my Kricket Williams on Facebook account. _

_I know it's been odd for me; for those of you who have been with me all along (And there are a LOT of you!), I've posted every other day for two years, and 115 stories, so this is a huge departure. I am so sorry for letting you guys down. Real life kicked my butt, and the butt of my families. Things are looking up—The UnSub (I can think of NO better word) is going to trial, and there can be some healing and justice. I promise I will be back on my regular schedule soon. Thank you for bearing with me during this once a week posting stuff until then. I also promise you one thing will never change; I will give you the best stories I can write._

_All my love, Kricket_

_PS. On a really, really AWESOME note, I came up with oodles of story ideas when I was breaking my nails, climbing big ol' cliffs...spicy stories! Whoo hoo! _Now to the story!

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**Chapter 10**

The Gamma Phi party was everything Penelope expected it to be—and she hadn't even stepped inside the frat house yet. There were no decorations and tons of red Solo cups littering the front lawn, and the scent of strong booze with just a titch of vomit permeated the air. It was loud and raucous; the decibels were well above legal range with the sounds of laughter and merriment inside carrying outside the open doors and windows. Penelope couldn't help but think if Mrs. Strauss had been there, she would've called the police by now. Luckily, her housemother was visiting relatives for the weekend.

There were plenty of scantily clad, nubile young women and bare-chested, buff young men lounging about the area. It must've been on the application for the house: "Very fit, God-like body? If yes, you're in." Penelope wished she'd had brought her sketch pad; she could've drawn the scene and made it Roman, like a fallen Olympus after a party by Bacchus.

She did a double take when she saw someone had brought furniture out to the front lawn. Not patio furniture, but the actual couches from the living room. She recognized one of the bigger ones as the couch she'd sat on with Derek when she'd been studying with him.

A wave of bittersweet nostalgia and longing washed over her, and she remembered how good it had felt, tucked close to him, reading stories and laughing. She missed him so much. How could she have been so foolish to let some Neanderthal like Gary Carlson and her pitiful attempts to protect her heart drive her away from Derek? He'd been her friend, the best she'd ever had, and she'd let him go.

The attempts had been feeble at best, useless and foolhardy… she'd fallen in love with him anyway.

She'd done a lot of soul searching after Mark had left, and most of that searching had to do with Derek. She'd realized how much she had to lose because of her own lack of self confidence, and how little she'd truly given Derek. She knew that regardless of how the night went, she needed to tell him that, and that she'd always appreciate his friendship.

Deep down, she still wished for more. In her heart, she felt Derek liked her. More than just as a friend, but truly liked her. It didn't make sense and she didn't have proof, but...

Hope surged in her as she thought about him in the past. He'd shown interest in her, she knew he had. She'd seen it in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. She couldn't have been that far off in her assessment. She couldn't...could she?

Of course, she'd never acted on it or asked him if he'd liked her. She'd been nervous and she'd relied on their friendship; she didn't want to screw that up. But maybe—just maybe...

Maybe if she showed that she was interested, maybe if she let him know how much she really cared, maybe if she believed in her fairy godmother…

Maybe—for once in her life—the glass slipper would be a perfect size nine.

So she dressed in the rocking, electric blue dress that she hadn't worn that first "date" because Prentiss had told her not to, and did her hair in a style that cascaded and curled, flowing over her shoulders, all because that was how Derek had said he liked it. She'd even wore the same earrings he'd played with, the little bells he'd rung. It was a desperate plea, but she didn't care if she looked desperate to impress him—she _was_ desperate, and she wanted to call a spade a spade.

She'd even worn hated high heels.

Mark had been suitably impressed when he'd picked her up. He'd told her she looked "Awesome", or some other commonly used boy compliment. He wasn't much of a conversationalist, but he was nice enough.

However now, as she teetered along on the heels, she was feeling anything but awesome. She was nervous and excited, her stomach felt fuzzy and funky at the same time, and her mouth was dry, like she'd sucked on cotton balls. As she approached the stairs, she took Mark's hand and reached for the railing, but wobbled and slipped on her heels. She heard loud laughter behind her as she nearly fell.

"Now that's attractive," Gary Carlson's girlfriend mocked nastily.

"Like an elephant on stilts," the man himself added, causing more laughter from the drunk wannabe's surrounding him.

Mortified, Penelope cheeks felt her face heat, and she stared at the ground. If Mark wasn't propelling her forward, she would've frozen in place.

"Come on," he said.

Penelope's heart fluttered and thudded, thinking of how different it was when she'd entered with Derek. No one would've said a word. Luckily, Mark hadn't seemed to notice the comment. She was glad about that. Penelope was a pacifist by nature; she didn't condone fighting, much less fighting over something said about her. She could handle criticism—she'd heard enough in her lifetime.

There were far more people here than she'd ever anticipated. Every sorority and frat house was represented. Even Prentiss was boogieing down in the yard with some young guy who definitely appreciated her darkly gothic appeal, judging by the way he was hammering his hips towards her.

As they reached the top of the stairs, she called over to Mark, "This is a huge turnout."

Mark nodded. "It's the second to the last party of the year. People want to have a good time."

As they opened the door, even more sounds and laughter came pouring out. It was a swarm of bodies, food, heat and mess.

Mark shouted above the din, "Want a drink? A beer or punch?"

She could barely hear him, so she shouted back in kind, "A punch would be nice."

"What?"

"Punch!" she called out as a person came sliding down the steps on a sled, nearly running her over.

Quickly, Mark tugged her into his arms. He leaned in near her ear to comment, "Careful there."

"Thank you!" she whispered gratefully, attempting to pull away and face him.

That wasn't quite possible. For a while, Mark held her just a little closer, his icy cool eyes warming with interest as his hands skimmed over her hips to the curve of her ass. It made her tense up. When Derek had held her after she'd slipped on the ice, it felt right, but with Mark, it felt awkward.

Not seeming to notice her tenseness, he exclaimed, "Two beers it is!"

Before he pulled away, he kissed her cheek, and left for the refreshment table.

"I think he kind of likes you," a familiar voice called out next to her.

Penelope turned to see JJ smiling at her. It felt good to see a friendly face, so she smiled in return. "Yes, I think he does."

Perceptive blue eyes gave a questioning look. "What does Morgan think of that?"

"I don't know," Penelope hollered back honestly.

Those big blue eyes widened. "I thought you two were…" She held her fingers up making them intertwined.

Penelope's heart sank. "We were…but I ruined it."

JJ frowned and shook her head. "What was that?"

"I ruined it," Penelope shouted over the din.

A look of concern graced JJ's beautiful face. "Do you need to talk?"

Just then, Mark returned with the beers, so she shook her head at JJ.

Mark handed a beer to Penelope, who winced at the offering.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't drink."

Mark laughed. "Why did you want a beer?"

"I wanted punch," she called out, pointing at JJ's fruity-looking concoction.

"The punch is spiked," JJ said, and took a sip, shaking her head before grinning loopily. "Heavily."

"Still better than beer," Penelope said with a shudder. She hated the taste of beer, even in beer cheese soup.

"I'll drink it," Mark said happily, taking the glass from her and downing it.

JJ put an arm around Penelope's shoulder and whispered sarcastically, "Such a gentleman."

Penelope giggledd. She really liked JJ—she was kind and she had a good head on her shoulders, far different that the other women at the Sigma Phi sorority she'd had the misfortune of meeting.

"I better get going," JJ said, giving Penelope a squeeze. She then turned her attention to Mark. "Did you see Jagger?"

Shaking his head, Mark shrugged.

JJ rolled her eyes. "He dumps me here and then expects me to find him to take him home."

"Need help?" Penelope asked.

"No, I'll find him…and give him a piece of my mind." Before she left, JJ pressed her fruity drink filled red solo cup into Penelope's hand, and said near her ear, "Drink it slowly…it's a lot stronger than it tastes."

Sighing, Penelope watched JJ leave. She had a feeling that Jagger and JJ were on their last legs, although their relationship had been kind of hot and sweet when she'd first seen them together. They'd been all over each other, in puppy love and infatuation. Things changed quickly with people their age. It gave Penelope hope that if it wasn't reciprocated, the fierce love she felt for Derek would recede over time.

For some reason, she doubted it.

Penelope sipped the delicious rosy punch, and was very surprised at how sweet and good it was. It tasted like pineapples and coconut and some other good things. It was an odd, electric blue that strangely matched her dress. It made her wonder if Derek would like it, too.

At that moment, she looked up and met the eyes of the man in her thoughts. He was watching her intently, a frown causing a wrinkle between his expressive eyebrows. He was dancing with a redhead that Penelope didn't recognize, but that was okay. She didn't know a lot of the girls that Derek dated.

God, he was beautiful! He was dressed in a dark, burgundy colored T-shirt that seemed to warm his golden brown complexion to near glowing, and his dark jeans were slung low on his lean hips. Her heart beat faster in her chest as she watched him move, all dark and sexy, and she could feel tingles dancing down her spine and prickling over her skin.

Her breath was coming quicker as thoughts rolled through her mind. What would she say to him? Did she just say, "I'm sorry?" Should she play it cool and catch him when he didn't have another girl draped on him? He didn't look approachable. His expression was-

"Do you want to dance?" Mark breathed near her ear, coming up behind her and causing her to jump.

Her heart stayed in her throat, but not because Mark had scared her. Rather, it was the anticipation. Should she dance with him?

She glanced over at the dance floor at Derek. He wasn't looking her way anymore. As he stood there with the redhead, a leggy blonde forced her way between them and plastered her mouth on his. Not to be outdone, the redhead snatched the blonde by the ponytail, yanked her away, and then began kissing him. The redhead shoved the blonde, and then clawed her way to Derek's mouth. Soon—and rather diplomatically, Penelope thought sarcastically—he had both girls on his arms, and he was trading kisses back and forth from one to the other. The crowd of other players around him laughed and cheered, shouting how lucky he was. They even patted him on the back for his prowess. Penelope could see Derek's smile, even as the girls continued begging for kisses from him.

Penelope's heart sank. She'd been foolish to believe that he'd ever been interested in her. Awkward, kind of dumpy, a little bit chunky Penelope Garcia wasn't anything like those women with Derek Morgan.

"Yes," she said, ripping her eyes away from the scene that was breaking her heart. She smiled at Mark. "I'd love to dance."


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Surprise! I said I was going to try for two updates while I was on vacation, and today's my last day of vacation...and here we go! I hope you all enjoy...

* * *

**Chapter 11**

This night sucked.

Nothing was going his way, and if things kept going the way they seemed, Derek was going to have to kick Mark Brown's ass. His hands were wandering places on his Baby Girl, and that wasn't acceptable in Derek's book.

Mark Brown, of all people.

Mark was a nice enough guy, but he was a freshman and a complete wannabe. He did whatever it took to fit in, including making himself look like an idiot in the process. Sadly, it backfired, causing him to be even more of an outsider. The other frat boys in the house teased about how Mark's lips were rimmed brown, from all the ass he had to kiss. Penelope deserved better than him, and—

Derek stiffened. That little bastard had swept in for another kiss on her cheek!

He took a few deep breaths, calming himself. Sure, he wasn't Penelope date tonight. However, regardless of what happened to him, regardless of how many cheerleaders tried to ram their tongues down his throat—after the first two, five more had kissed him to get the spotlight—regardless of who he danced with, Derek was focused on her, and she looked uncomfortable.

And beautiful.

She'd taken his breath away the moment she'd stepped in, a goddess in blue, with her dress hugging every luscious, ripe curve. Dear God, Derek hadn't even known she possessed curves like that; he'd seen her in jeans and a sweatshirt most of the time, or her art smock. She was a bright and extraordinary flower, next to a bunch of skanky, skimpily dressed weeds.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to go over, drop to his knees, and beg her to speak to him, to let him hold her just one more time...and make him whole.

Damn, he was pathetic. He didn't even know what he'd done wrong, but he was willing to apologize for it, just as long as she would take him back. She was so vital to him, more than she would ever know. He needed her more than he needed breath.

What had started as him helping out a little freshman girl had become a lifeline to him. Derek didn't trust many people. Growing up in the inner city, he'd had to watch himself. People he'd trusted had turned on him and had hurt him. Guys had tried to ride his coattails, given his star status, and girls had wanted him for sex for the same reason. He'd never had a real confidant, and he found he missed that more than anything else with her.

When had she become his everything, his God-given solace in an artificial world?

But she was with Brown, and he was with Thalia. His date was a last minute Hail Mary pass from another college. He didn't want to show up empty-handed when everyone else had someone—that would've been embarrassing. She was nice enough, and she was a hot redhead, but the moment Penelope showed, all interest in Thalia faded.

He watched Brown for a moment. Mark was more than a little drunk—he'd been pounding beers the entire hour that he'd been there. Stupid fool had no idea how to pace himself, which was a rookie mistake. He'd learn after he prayed to the porcelain goddess in the morning. Brown had obviously been Penelope's choice for the night, but she didn't look too pleased about it now.

Derek was good at reading physical reactions; he watched them dance, and he could tell something was wrong. Penelope was stiff in Mark's arms, unyielding. Rather than swaying toward him, she squirmed away. She kept moving his roving hand off her ass.

Derek closed his eyes for a moment and groaned. God, she had a sweet little bottom. How could he have been so blind to the treasures she had under those baggy clothes? She'd hugged him, and he'd felt those soft breasts against his chest; he should've known.

Most girls bored him after a short time. He had a feeling he would never tire of exploring Penelope's charms.

"Bong time!" Jagger called out, coming from the kitchen with the funnel and the beer. His small blonde girlfriend followed, a scowl on her face. That wasn't going to last much longer...

As he'd expected, foolish Brown left Penelope standing there to join the line of students who were going to get shitfaced by the mass consumption of beer poured down that funnel. A great many of them would be puking rather quickly, too. Beer had too many bubbles and caused a nasty, full feeling, which rapidly overfilled stomachs. When Derek wanted to get drunk, he did it on tequila shots, straight up.

"Morgan!" Jagger called across the room, waving the bong in what Jag obviously thought was an enticing way. "You in?"

No. _Hell_, no. Derek had been there in the past, his first year there. He wasn't about to go back there again.

Just as he was about to answer, he watched as Penelope began to stroll off the makeshift dance floor in the living room, past the crowd, and slip outside.

Derek shook his head at Jagger and then quickly followed Penelope.

* * *

This night sucked!

_Just a few more __steps, and you're__ free_, Penelope told herself. Her head was splitting; she needed to get out of there. Teetering on her painful heels, Penelope hustled out of the house, trying to make it to her sorority next door. She'd had enough of drunk people and their idiot games.

Speaking of drunk, Penelope was trifle well to do herself. She wasn't a drinker, and the sweet punch had gone down far too easy. However, it had upset her stomach. She was feeling a bit green, and she wanted to go straight to bed and sleep this nightmare off.

She paused and slowed down a bit. She still hadn't spoken to Derek, and she wanted to desperately. She wanted to apologize, to say how wrong she was, that she loved him and cared about him, and that she didn't even care if he slept with both the redhead and the blonde and any other girls tonight. He could have a line that punched a time card heading to his room. It wouldn't matter. She just wanted him back.

She had to tell Mark she left. She'd left before saying a word to him. He'd been nice to her, even if he was too drunk and a little too grabby. He genuinely seemed to like her...and Derek, too. He talked about Derek almost the whole night.

Peering around the corner, she saw that the picnic tables between their buildings were empty, including the one where she'd shared a pizza with Derek. She could practically see him, chewing hot pizza, steam rising from his mouth. Yet another bittersweet memory in a night that seemed filled with them.

Stumbling to the table, she sat down and immediately removed the cursed heels. She wiggled her toes, and her feet throbbed a couple of times in relief. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Hey."

Penelope was surprised to see Derek. Her mouth hung open for a second, and then she said, "H-Hi."

Then again, she really shouldn't be surprised. He was a good guy, the kind that worried about women who walked out of parties at night alone.

He frowned with concern. "Are you okay?"

She almost laughed. Of course, she'd been right.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You shouldn't be out here alone at night."

"I'm fine," she reiterated, thinking exactly how wrong that word was. She wasn't fine, not at all. "I just needed some fresh air."

He waited a moment, looking at her like he was trying to decipher her. It reminded her of how she looked when she eyed a Picasso painting that didn't make sense. She thought he might say something—anything—that would end this awkward silence and strange tension between them...

But he didn't.

Another couple came out and began to make out under the tree just a few paces from the picnic table.

Nervously, she giggled. "I guess I'm not alone now."

"No, you're not," he said. He looked over at the couple and then back at her. "Good night."

Was he saying good night...or goodbye?

Penelope's heart crushed in her chest, aching so much that she could barely breathe. "Good night."

He took a few paces and then turned and said, "You look beautiful tonight."

She gave him a watery smile, unable to fight the tears gathering in her eyes. "You do, too." She began to blush. "I mean, you look handsome. But you always look handsome. I mean, I even call you handsome, and—"

"I understood what you meant," he interrupted softly.

Again, the awkward silence was back, and then they spoke in a rush together:

"Baby Girl, I'm sorry—"

"I'm sorry, Hot Stuff!"

They stopped, and then they both began to smile. As he looked into her eyes, Derek cautiously opened his arms.

Penelope stood and ran toward him, nearly knocking him over and giving him a huge hug, one that began to heal all wounds with its strength and ferocity. Derek enveloped her in his embrace, holding her just as tight as she held him.

"Baby, I'm sorry," he whispered. She could feel the heat of his breath, the brush of his stubble against the top of her head.

"No, no!" she cried, reaching up to cup his cheek. "It was me. It was all me. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Angel, there's nothing to forg—"

"There is," she said staunchly, putting her hand on his mouth to silence him. "I didn't want to come between your housemates and you, and—"

"Sweetheart—"

She ignored him to finish, "And I let my idiocy come between us, and I am so, so, so sorry."

"Penelope," he murmured, holding her in his arms again. He kissed the top of her head. "It's okay now. It's okay."

"You mean the world to me, Derek."

"Aw, bab—"

"You've been so good to me, and I wanted to be good to you, too, but I wasn't, and I was terrible, and..." she said in a rush, nearly hiccuping with tears. When words wouldn't come, she blurted, "I'm uberly sorry!"

"Hush, angel," he said, his warm breath stirring her hair. "Ain't no need to apologize. It's okay."

She let him hold her, felt the warmth of his body heal her and make her whole. He was her everything, and he always would be—regardless of whom he or she dated. She needed to tell him how she was feeling.

"You're the best friend I've ever had, Derek Morgan, and...and I kinda love you."

She felt him take a deep breath, and it was a long while before he exhaled. Reaching up, he touched little bell earring she wore, looked into her eyes, and then said softly, "I kinda love you, too, Penelope Garcia."

There was a great sense that filled Penelope, of the world righting itself—

"Ugh! Ugh, yeah!" the couple from the corner groaned, interrupting the sweet moment, followed by the sounds of wet flesh suddenly filled the air.

She went to look, but suddenly, Derek reached for her chin, holding it straight.

"Don't look over there," he said, wincing. "It's not pretty."

She giggled. "I suppose we should go back in."

"Yeah," he said, releasing her slightly. "That reminds me. Thalia and Marcy are waiting."

"Who?"

He gave her a grin, but he blushed slightly. "The...ah...redhead and blonde that are gonna be in my bed tonight."

Penelope felt her breath catch painfully just a bit, but she ignored it and teased instead. "Two? You dog, you."

"It could've been more," he retorted, which earned him a swat. He laughed and picked up her strappy heels. He bent and began fastening her shoes on for her. "You gonna get some from Brown tonight?"

She shook her head. "No. I feel kind of queasy."

He probably does, too," Derek muttered beneath his breath, loudly enough so she could hear it. Then he said, "You don't look queasy. You look great. You should wear more fitted clothes."

She blinked at him. "I should?"

Derek helped her to her feet and turned her in a piroutette. "Hell, yes!"

Penelope skin tingled as he stared at her, focusing on certain parts of her skin she'd never bared in public before. "O-oh. Okay."

"You are a hot momma tonight." He continued to sweep his gaze over her appreciatively. "And those fuck-me heels you're wearing...mmm hmmm," he said with a wink. "You'd have Brown and all the other boys panting after you."

She could feel her cheeks flaming as she wondered, _Could a girl who had never been fucked wear fuck-me heels?_

Her heart panged a little, but she ignored it. "I'll take your advice."

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Let's get you back to your date."

And as they both walked back in, they couldn't help but think the night didn't suck after all.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Thank you, lovely peoples, for your reviews! Here we go with the next chapter...

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**Chapter 12**

The speed in which he and Penelope had returned to their usual relationship amazed Derek. It started the very next day after the party. He'd come to get her to have pizza, and the Goth girl, Emily Prentiss, had answered the door. Although she looked kind of scary and tough, he liked Emily. He had the no-nonsense Em in a lot of his classes; she was going into law enforcement, too.

"_Thank God," she said in a part sigh, part mutter of annoyance that just seemed to fit her. "It's about time you two saw reason."_

"_I—"_

_Prentiss didn't allow more comment than that. "Garcia!" she yelled up the stairs, walking away, and then his girl showed up, and his heart started to fly._

He couldn't believe how different he felt. It was like night and day, compared to that time apart, almost like spring had arrived after a dreadfully long Chicago winter. Being around Penelope was contagious joy. She was all effervescence and sunshine and happiness, and simply looking at her made him happy.

Penelope seemed just as elated as he was. Recently, when Mrs. Strauss had called her name when he'd called, Penelope had nearly knocked her down in her enthusiasm to get out the door. It was like the two of them had made a conscious effort to pretend the last week hadn't happened.

They were even more inseparable than before. Penelope came to watch him work out; he watched her do her artwork. They found compromises on everything, learned to like just about everything the other liked, and it was a truly beautiful friendship.

Nearly three weeks had passed, and they'd spent a great majority of their time with one another. Today, they were in the park at the campus, just an ordinary kind of day.

Penelope was drawing. Her tongue was out, and she was erasing a line that she'd made. She did that little thing with her tongue whenever she was concentrating.

Her tiny pink tongue...yet another thing that made her adorable.

She sighed and paused in her drawing.

"Can I see it?" he asked.

"When I'm done," she said and then continued drawing.

"I can wait."

She looked over the top of her glasses, her soft brown eyes glowing with a know-it-all satisfaction. "That's good, since you have no choice _but_ to wait."

He grinned at her devilishly. "While I'm waiting...can I see the picture you drew of me?"

She ignored him, as usual, but he saw her blush. He bugged her often to see the naked picture, and she always told him no. She blushed every time he asked, so he figured it was simply too embarrassing for her to show how she'd drawn him in his full glory.

That breathy "Beautiful" she'd murmured really made him want to look, though...

Derek shrugged and went back to lying on the blanket. He could deal. He could deal with anything. Life was good. Things were back to normal, and the world was back on its axis.

He frowned just slightly. There was _one_ thing from that time period that remained and bugged him. The morning after the party, a sheepish Mark Brown had approached Derek.

"_Ah, Morgan? Can I...ah...ask you something?"_

_Derek perched on the armrest of their dilapidated couch. "Sure, Brown."_

_Brown winced and then asked sheepishly, "Did I make too much of an ass out of myself in front of Penelope?"_

_Derek thought seriously about that. That night, Mark had vomited on the couch, vomited again up the stairs, had peed in his pants, and had told more than one person on the team—including Carlson, who would never let that poor kid live it down—that he loved them. In short, he'd made a grade-A ass out of himself._

_But he'd done none of that in front of Penelope. After he'd helped her with her shoes, Penelope had __yawned, and__ he'd offered to walk her home instead. She'd gratefully accepted, with the provision that he tell Mark she'd left._

_Mark wouldn't have noticed if the Pope had come and gone, __he'd been so__ shitfaced._

"_Nah, buddy," Derek said, giving him a smile. "I think you're safe."_

_Mark heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, good! I wanted to ask her on another date and—"_

"_You what?" Derek interrupted. For some reason, he hadn't expected that._

"_I w-want to see if she wants to go out," he stammered, his eyes like saucers as he looked at Derek warily. "That's not a __problem, is__ it?"_

_Derek thought about the last week without __her and__ knew his answer immediately._

"_No. No, man. Go ahead and ask."_

As he watched Penelope, sitting cross-legged and sketching the trees and two squirrels playing on the campus lawn, he thought about how much he regretted that decision. He should've told Brown to stay the fuck away from Penelope, but he didn't feel that he could. She'd chosen Mark Brown to go with that night. If she were interested in him, what right did he have to stand in the way of her happiness?

Problem was, every day he spent with her, she went further and further under his skin. He barely glanced at other girls anymore. They didn't matter, not like she did. He fell harder and harder for her, yet he was desperate to keep their friendship.

It was a double-edged sword: He couldn't live without her, but he couldn't have her, either.

The squirrels scampered away, and Penelope huffed, her full lips pursing. She had the most beautiful mouth. He wanted to kiss the little divot above her upper lip right where it bowed and the two dimples that appeared at the corners when she smiled.

"Have you kissed Brown?" he blurted, unable to take his attention away from her mouth.

Penelope looked over at him, a wry smile twisting those lips. She began to blush, just slightly. "Okaaaay," she drawled with a slight chuckle. "Why are you asking me that?"

"You've been going out, right?"

He didn't need to ask. He knew they'd gone on a few dates. Derek had hoped Penelope would send Mark away, but she hadn't.

A strand of hair fell over her cheek; she brought a little hand up to tuck the wayward lock behind her ear and left a smudge of charcoal on her cheek. Her fingers were always covered with gray and black when she was drawing. She used them to smudge the lead and make shadows so that the characters came alive.

He wanted to kiss that charcoal smudge.

"Yeah." She was sounding as uncomfortable as she looked. "But that's kinda personal there, Hot Stuff."

He rolled his eyes. "Please."

"I never ask you if you kiss your girlfriends."

He simply arched a brow at her, which spoke volumes.

"Okay, okay." She put her hands up and then turned her head to the side in a questioning gaze. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know," he said, drawing his eyes away from hers. He couldn't say why he was really asking, that he'd been focused on her lips and couldn't help but think of kissing. That would be foolish in the extreme. "I was just curious."

When he looked back, Penelope was staring at him. "Handsome, did Mark ask you to ask me that?"

Immediately, Derek frowned. "Why would you ask that?"

That blush was back, a flush of pink that covered her cheeks. "He's tried to kiss me, and I haven't been very receptive. I didn't want—"

Derek saw red. "I'm gonna kill him."

Penelope's eyes were so huge that you could see them outside the frames of her thick glasses. "No! No, don't do that!"

"Baby Girl, I don't give a damn about your wanting peace. _No one_ is forcing themselves on you," he snarled, rising to a seated position. The agitation in him grew. He wanted to get up, walk into his frat house, and kick the living shit out of Mark Brown. "Dirty bastard, I—"

Penelope hurried to her knees and clamped a hand over his mouth. "Hush, Derek. It's not like that!"

Derek scowled, his brows snapping harshly together, but he didn't say a word. He couldn't. Her hand was still over his lips.

"Will you listen, please?" she asked timidly. "I'll take my hand away if you listen."

It was a silly request, really. He was ten times stronger than she was; he could've removed her hand in a heartbeat. Still, he let her have her way, and soon, she slowly removed her hand, like she'd said she would.

"We've been on four dates," Penelope said and then added quickly, "and Mark has been a gentleman and very nice."

"He'd better be," Derek grumbled.

"However, he has hinted he wanted a kiss." She looked away from Derek's eyes, that pretty blush coming back. This time, by the smile that graced her lips, he could tell it was a pleasurable blush. "I think I want it, too."

"That what's wrong?" he snapped, far more harshly than he'd intended.

Damn, he had it bad. He was jealous of a kiss that hadn't even happened yet! He never, _ever_, should've asked her that question. What was he? Some kind of stupid masochist?

"Ivenverkss," she mumbled, keeping her chin down. "That's why."

Derek quirked a grin. "What did you say?"

"That's why."

He chuckled slightly. "No, the first part."

She shot her glance back at his, and that blush began to grow. "Oh, that part."

As he watched her discomfiture, he reran the syllables she'd spoken in his head, slowing them down...slowly...slowly...

I've never...

"You've never kissed a man before?" he asked, somewhat in awe. He knew he'd hit pay dirt, too; that light pink turned a brilliant scarlet, and she looked down again at her dirty hands.

"No! I did a few times..." When he didn't say anything, she added, "High school guys."

"Baby..."

"I know they're not really men. I wasn't eighteen, either. And I just...I don't want to do it wrong," she finally said after a long moment of silence. "I—"

"You won't do it wrong," he said quickly, reassuring her and kicking himself at the same time. God, he didn't want to thrust her into Brown's arms, but he couldn't lie to her, either. He'd never lied to her. He'd omitted, he'd changed his wording, but he'd never lied to her, and he wasn't about to start now.

Slowly, she drew that luscious bottom lip between her teeth. "It's not just that. It's more than..."

Derek felt a string in his heart pull tight and a twitch of awareness, something that told him things were shifting and becoming different. "What?"

He knew he sounded breathy and eager, but he didn't care. Never in his life had he wanted to hear an answer as bad as he did right now. He felt like he'd been waiting his entire life to hear her answer.

She brought her gaze up to his and quickly looked down. "Never mind."

Derek reached over and cupped her chin in his hand so that she had to meet his eyes. "Tell me, sweetheart."


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews...Here comes the great, big, juicy next chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Penelope's heart pounded in her chest. Oh, God! How would she get out of this one? She didn't want to explain that she wanted her first true kiss to really mean something, to be special, to be with a guy she actually liked.

Mark...Mark was nice, and she _could_ grow to like him. Prentiss said that he was good practice for real dates down the line. But Penelope didn't feel high fire or raging emotion for him. She didn't feel her heart stir when he entered a room or her breath catch when he grinned at her. She didn't feel her stomach quicken, like butterflies had taken up residence in her tummy and repopulated their species. She didn't dream about Mark...

Not like she dreamed about Derek.

So here she was, her dearest friend holding her chin, concern in his beautiful brown eyes as he waited for her answer. His look said a lot to her, too, that he knew the answer to the question before she even said it—that she wanted him to kiss her.

Penelope was a true romantic, the kind that wanted the castle, the prince, and the happily ever after. She was jaded enough to know girls like her didn't usually get the fairy tale ending and the last name "Charming". She'd been to junior high and senior high school and learned that lesson before she learned algebra.

However, deep down, she was young and innocent enough that she still hoped for them. One of those mythical things she'd hoped for the most? The magical, life-changing kiss.

She wanted the kind of kiss that made her knees weak and her heart take flight and soar amongst the clouds. She wanted that kind of kiss, the movie star kiss everyone cheered for, the regency romance one that made the elegant lady feel like swooning.

As she stared into Derek's eyes, she saw a look of understanding and compassion burning in those chocolaty depths.

"I think I understand," he answered, his deep voice causing shivers down her spine.

She swallowed hard and asked, "Do you?"

"You want a kiss," he said plainly. "Some experience, and by someone who knows how to kiss."

She couldn't speak. She barely breathed, but she managed to nod shakily.

He trailed those long fingers of his down her jaw, to the side of her neck, and then murmured, "You want me to kiss you?"

For a moment, she saw a warmth, a flicker of something she'd never seen before in Derek's eyes. She didn't know what is was, but it made her stomach swim with butterflies and her insides tingle. Warm, swirling, prickling heat washed over her body, and she had a feeling he knew exactly what was happening to her.

Penelope's heart stopped that erratic pounding and jumped into her throat. Bravely, she choked out her answer. "Yes."

He raised his brows in slight surprise, which showed her that he hadn't been completely sure after all when he'd asked her that question or of her response. She didn't know what that meant for what he was thinking, but she feared it was shock that she'd want such a thing from him.

"You could teach me," she blurted quickly when he didn't say anything right away.

"Teach." Those dark eyes, more black than golden brown, were glued to her lips. For a moment, they looked...disappointed?

She needed to fix this—pronto!

"I mean...I don't want to screw up, and you've kissed so many girls," she added rapidly, nervously. "I mean, at the party, you obviously knew what you're doing."

He frowned. "The party?"

She could feel her cheeks flushing. "Those cheerleaders...kissing you."

"I found out it was part of their sorority pledge. It didn't mean anything," he explained, shrugging. "For their swearing in, they needed to kiss a star player. They chose me. I helped them out."

Penelope had counted no less than seven women that night, plastering their lips on him. They seemed to really like it, had bragged about it afterward in classes she unfortunately shared with them, all about getting Derek Morgan's hot kiss.

"He even gave me a little tongue!" one girl had crowed so excitedly that her ponytail had bounced on her head. Penelope had wanted to snatch that thing and the girl's tongue from her head.

She swallowed back a mouthful of bitterness. "Well, then help me."

Derek paused, an uncomfortable look on his face, like he was deciding somethng. After a moment, he shook his head and then he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "No, sweetheart. Us kissing would not be a good idea."

"Please. If you can kiss them, you can kiss me." She knew she sounded petty, but she didn't care. "It would be just like that."

She didn't realize how badly she wanted this until that moment. To, just once, be kissed by the love of her life.

A chance like that might not ever come again.

"You're telling me if you kissed me," he said in a quiet, but clear voice, "it wouldn't mean anything more to you than it meant to those pledges?"

"Yes," she answered dully. God, it was nothing like that, and yet...yet...she couldn't admit how much it meant to her. She glanced downward.

He chuckled and put his hand on his shoulder. "I don't think so, Baby Girl. We mean too much—"

"No!" she shouted, sounding desperate, even to her own ears. "Treat me like that...just like them. Deep down, I'm just like those girls."

"No, baby...you're nothing like them—inside or out."

Penelope felt like her heart had been yanked from her chest. She hung her head. She knew she wasn't as thin, or as classically beautiful, or as poised as those other girls. She knew she wasn't dressed as well and wasn't as popular, but damn, it hurt for him to say that to her. Him, of all people, who always made her feel different than the rest.

"Baby, look at me."

She hesitated looking up at him again. She was sure the hurt and pain she felt was vivid in her eyes. She couldn't hide it; her emotions were raw and gaping, her feelings for Derek too strong.

But then she glanced, and she gasped at what she saw. The love he wore on his face was plain to be seen, that glowing filament in her heart that always told her she was special to him was echoed in his rich, chocolate eyes.

"You're different," he argued, holding her hands, "because you care about me, like I care about you. You're better than them."

"Better than them..." she echoed, barely able to form words.

"You're my best friend, Baby Girl, and you _deserve_ better." He spoke the last words fiercely, with a fire and passion that warmed her.

Penelope held her breath as her heart beat slowly and her insides tingled with anticipation.

Derek put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her closer, and kissed her temple, reiterating, "You're my best friend."

"You're my best friend, too," she whispered, and she could feel misty tears gathering in her eyes.

"This is your first kiss..." Bringing his large hand behind her neck to cup it, he whispered softly, "And I am honored to give it to you."

A second later, Derek's mouth was on hers, his soft, warm lips brushing against hers, barely touching, and yet awakening all her nerve endings. He brushed once, twice, and her breath caught in her throat, anticipating more. At the same time, Derek was moving her forward, or maybe he was coming toward her; she couldn't discern where the movement was coming from. All she knew was that she was being wrapped in his arms and she wanted this to last forever.

Derek nuzzled against her mouth, parting her lips gently and drawing her bottom lip between his in the most delightful way. He licked that lip, the tip of his tongue an electric conduit of sensation. Shivers danced along her spine, and she moved closer to him—yet, not close enough.

This was what desire felt like, and she wanted more of it.

Each sweep of his mouth, each exploration of his lips...it wasn't enough. She wanted to reach out to him, to keep him with her forever. Soon, she was opening her mouth, returning the nuzzles, teasing his bottom lip in the same way he'd done to hers.

"That's my girl," he murmured against her mouth. "Follow my lead..."

More than happy to acquiesce to his commands, she opened more, explored more. He retreated slightly, and she followed him, taking the lead in the kiss. Derek reached for her wrists and brought her hands up to rest behind his neck. When they were set, he brought his hands to her waist and then down to her bottom, bringing her forward that extra inch she hadn't known she was craving, and molding her body closer to his.

"Mmm...open, angel," he encouraged, opening his mouth against hers. As always, she trusted him and followed suit, wanting to find out more, needing more from him.

The first shocking, wet velvet slide of his tongue against hers caused her breath to catch with its intensity. She'd been French kissed before, but it had been sloppy and wet and unappealing to boot. She hadn't known what the fuss was all about, but now, she knew she was wrong. The sweet stroking of his tongue exploring her mouth made her body ache deep and low in her abdomen and lower in the core of her being. She felt hot, flushed, and so excited.

Derek seemed excited, too. He was breathing heavily, like he did after football practice, and she could feel echoing tremors in his body. She was grateful to be kneeling; she would've fallen if she'd been standing. Then, she was falling, or rather, she was being lowered, softly, backwards onto the grass, her legs sprawling out and his lean body following hers down.

Now, Derek was positioned partially over her, and it felt heavenly, the heavy weight of his body. It wasn't smothering, rather soothing and settling, like an anchor to keep her from floating high in the heavens, where his angel kisses led. Her nipples had become hard and her core was throbbing, awash with wet heat. His thick thigh was sandwiched between her legs, and instinctively, she pressed up against him, trying to ease the ache. She couldn't control the low moans she emitted or the feeling that something more needed to happen.

So much more.

On and on, he kissed her, and she kissed him back, exploring his mouth. Bravely, she tugged his head down more to hers, trying to devour him. She couldn't get enough of that decadent taste that was Derek. She wanted so badly to crawl inside his body, to become one with him and never leave him. He felt so good...so wonderful and right.

Somewhere, deep in the depths of her mind, she heard noises.

"Get a room!" someone cackled, along with a chorus of wolf whistles and cat calls.

Derek stiffened and then broke the kiss and moved off her, all before she could take her next breath.

Penelope moved up to her elbows, too shaken to sit up fully. "Derek?"

He sat there with smoky dark eyes and an unhappy expression on his face. "God, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get that carried away. I shouldn't have..." He ran a hand over his face and swore swiftly. "Fuck!"

She swallowed hard and forced a smile. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," he snapped, glaring over at her.

She was frightened. What was a beautiful first kiss for her obviously was not the same thing for him. He had his eyes closed and was still frowning. His face was flushed, too, causing a horrible thought to roll through her mind.

Was that flush...embarrassment? Was he embarrassed that he'd been caught kissing her?

"Derek?" she whispered hesitantly. "Who...who was it that saw us?"

"I don't know," he answered. Taking one more deep breath, he exhaled and then shook his head. He opened his eyes. "I'm sorry I got so carried away, Penelope. I didn't mean for it to go quite that far."

"It's okay," she reiterated.

Derek bit his bottom lip sheepishly. "It's been a while for me."

A while since he'd kissed? That didn't make sense. He was kissing all the time. She wondered if, when he kissed girls, did he _always_ kiss them like that? If he did, no wonder he had a harem chasing him. Penelope felt so good and so aroused, it was like she'd been slung over the moon. Her nipples were still hard, and she ached. She didn't think she'd ever forget the feel of his mouth or the taste of his tongue. It must be exhausting to be that good.

He couldn't kiss all the girls that way...could he?

Before she could say anything, a teasing grin was back on his face. "Hell of a first kiss, huh?"

That was her answer. For a second, she'd felt special, but then she thought about the girls in the class that knew all about Derek's kisses and his tongue. Yeah, she was special, but she wasn't special _in that way_ to him.

She'd gotten what she'd asked for... She was just like everyone else.

Fighting back heartache, she asked shyly, "I did okay?"

Derek's grin faded a bit, but then it was back. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, sweetie, you did."

"Thank you."

In the next breath, he said, "Do that for Brown, and he'll think you're a pro."

"Oh."

They stared at each other for a second, and then Derek coughed and rolled to his feet. He glanced at his watch. "Baby, I gotta go. See you tomorrow."

Within a breath, he was jogging toward the gym.

Penelope felt like she'd been slapped, but then she realized again that she'd been given what she'd asked for. She hadn't been truthful, and she should've known...

_Be careful what you wish __for, because__ you might actually get it._


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I'll be answering asap. Until then, I don't want to keep you waiting. Here comes another chapter...

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**Chapter 14**

Derek needed to work off some steam. For the past week, he'd been in the foulest mood. Everything from his facial expression, to the way he walked showed his frustration and irritability. His entire house avoided him like the plague. No one was exactly sure what Morgan's problem was. However, there were a lot of guesses to the issue. He knew what the guesses were, too—Jagger didn't have any problems sharing that with him.

First, they thought it was because he'd been working too much—which he was. Unlike the majority of his teammates, he came from a working class background, and although he had a full scholastic ride—books, housing, tuition—due to the football scholarship he'd earned, he still had to pay for day-to-day expenses like gas, food, notebooks, insurance, and anything fun he could squeeze in to life. That put extra stress on a man.

Then again, others guessed it was academic stress. It was the end of the term; tensions were high for a lot of students, with final exams, projects, and papers that had to be finished. Morgan was no different. Like the rest of the players, he had to maintain a 3.0 to remain on the team. Everyone was feeling the stress of that, but Morgan was an overachiever, going for a law enforcement degree. That might have added to the stress.

Some thought it was football. The team was having a glorious season and was looking at a playoff berth for the second time in his four years at school. Along with the glory came the stress of meeting expectations. Morgan as QB and team leader would have the majority of that stress. He was a champ, most of the time, and was under a lot of stress to carry the weaker members of the team.

Others thought he wasn't getting laid enough.

The truth of the matter was...it was none of the above. He didn't want to tell any of his housemates the real reason he felt the way he did, mostly because they didn't need to know his personal life. He was an intensely private person; he didn't trust a whole lot of people. Sure, he trusted them all on the field, as they did him, but he kept his own feelings to himself.

Besides, he felt like an idiot...all because Penelope had taken his advice.

Grunting in disgust, he did another crunch with the disc weight on his stomach. He'd lost count at two hundred and was continuing to beat himself, despite his gut aching like a sonofabitch. Maybe that pain would take away the ache in the central region of his chest.

Sighing, he collapsed to his mat in the gym. Shit. No matter what he did, he couldn't get the picture of her, all cute curls, sparkling eyes, and happy smiles, bounding up to him earlier that week...

"_I did it."_

_He chuckled and draped his arm over her shoulders. "Did what, baby?"_

_They started walking to her art class—a daily thing for __them now__. A lot of the girls recognized him as the naked model they'd had in their class, and they giggled and gave suggestive __looks to him__, but he didn't pay them any mind. He wanted to be with his girl, and that class was the farthest walk from their dorms. He'd suffer anything to be with her._

_When she didn't answer immediately, he looked down at her and saw her biting her lip in excitement. Stopping in his tracks and stopping her, too, in the process, he prodded gently, "Go on."_

"_I took your advice, my mochalicious one," she burst out happily._

"_What advice?"_

_She was positively beaming. "I took your advice and kissed Mark!"_

_He was so surprised that he felt his eyebrows almost fly off his face. They'd kissed only yesterday, and he'd been able to think of nothing else. He'd had to work out to the point of exhaustion so that he could sleep the night before without jacking off, and even then, the workout hadn't worked._

_Looking at her, he was aroused again._

_Apparently, it__ hadn't been the same for __her._

"_Well__...congratulations__," he murmured, hoping his tone didn't expose how hurt he was. It must've worked, because she bubbled forth with more words._

"_Oh, it was great! He leaned in after he walked me up to the front __door, and__ he kissed me!"_

"_Great," he said, a saccharine smile curving his lips._

_She nodded, her little bell earrings he loved jingling a merry tune. "Mmm hmm. I did it. I didn't move away this time. I just stood there and let him."_

_Derek felt sick to his stomach. Had that been what she'd done with him? Had she just __lain__ there and _let _him kiss her?_

"_Sounds great, lil' momma," he answered, so __flustered that he__ felt out of breath._

_She frowned for a second, her natural brows, not waxed and thin like the other girls on campus, drawing to a line above her nose in concern. "__Angelfish, are__ you okay?"_

"_Yeah, I'm__ fine." He'd never lied to her __before and__ prayed to God that she'd forgive him that slight._

"_Okay..." she said, still looking uneasy and a little upset. "I don't believe you, and I'm worried. Derek, __please. Talk__ to me."_

_Jesus! He needed to snap out of this, or he'd lose the best thing he'd ever had. Her friendship._

_Shaking off any excess emotion he had, he tugged her closer to him and held her in the circle of his arms. He held her tight, if only for a moment, enjoying how perfectly she fit, her head in the crook of his neck, her __sweet-scented__ hair tickling his cheek. He __sighed and__ then kissed the top of her head..._

_And kissed his feelings for her goodbye._

"_Baby, I'm fine. I just had a bad week," he answered. It was the worst week of his life...now. He forced a smile when she looked up at him. "It's nothing a hot date tomorrow won't fix."_

"_That's the spirit!" She smiled back at __him, touched__ his nose, and then looked at her dangly watch. It was artsy, with lots of bangles and accessories. "Oh! Look at the time."_

"_I love that watch," he said absentmindedly. He loved her, too._

"_You do?" she asked. "I got it from my mom. She likes a lot of jewelry."_

"_Your mom is right. You should be covered in jewels." At her surprised look, he laughed and gave her a little push. "Hurry!"_

_She__ trotted off, a swing in her step, her sweetly curved behind swinging with swagger...a behind that fit his hands perfectly._

Sweat was rolling in his eyes, and he knew it had more to do with the memory of holding her than his workout. He couldn't stop thinking about it, every moment of their kiss together. How her body fit his, how soft she was when he'd lain on her. She'd felt indescribably good, lush and rounded. His hands itched with how much he wanted to cup her breasts, trace the lines of her thighs.

And her taste! He'd kissed hundreds of girls, but none tasted like nectar and sugar and a touch of Doublemint® gum that she favored. He'd become drunk on her kisses, losing control like he'd never lost control before. He'd had to close his eyes; he would've jumped her again if he'd kept looking at her, puffy, kiss-bruised lips and hair all mussed-up curls.

He'd been ashamed, too. He'd taken an innocent first kiss and turned it into something...not sweet and innocent. Fuck! He didn't even know how to describe it. He'd only intended on a sweet little kiss like she'd asked for, and he'd devoured her instead.

Like an animal, not a best friend.

She deserved better.

Like a coward, he'd avoided her lately. He couldn't see her without thinking of that kiss. No other girl would do, either. They all paled in comparison, and he knew deep down that they always would. She'd rocked his world. No one had ever rocked it like her before.

Shaking his head, he flung the weight to the side and sat up. He might as well stop torturing himself. Nothing was helping. He needed time to regain his cool so he could be her friend again, because right now, he just couldn't do it.

"Morgan," Carlson said, entering the gym.

Great, just what he needed. He grunted a hello to the other man.

"What the fuck is your problem lately?" Carlson asked without any preamble or real concern. "Everyone is talking about you and how you're a miserable fuck to everyone."

Derek ignored him and moved to a free weight rack. It was always the wisest decision to ignore Gary.

"Maybe I need to knock some joy back into you?"

"Get bent, Gary," Derek muttered, doing a bicep curl with his right arm.

"The house...they're worried you're sick or somethin'," Carlson continued. "But they're wrong, ain't they? Not sick, but no girls, no time out, nothing. Just a lump, layin' around..."

Derek continued to ignore him, a dark cloud growing over his head.

"This is all about Brown's girl," Gary baited, nearly sing-song with his words. "Poor little nerd's gotten under your skin."

"Back off, Carlson," Derek warned. "This doesn't concern Penelope."

"The hell it doesn't!" Gary snorted. "I think it has _everything _to do with her. I think you're pissed off because you wanna fuck Brown's totally unfuckable girlfriend, and she—"

Carlson didn't get to finish what he said. Derek tossed the weight aside and took a swing at him. Gary was far calmer and less emotional than Derek was. The bigger man jumped aside and then threw a punch that caught Derek in the eye. Derek staggered for a moment and then charged back with an uppercut to Carlson's midsection, followed by a quick jab that connected with his nose.

More damage would've been done if four other players hadn't separated them immediately.

"Asshole! Lay off Penelope!" Derek snarled, panting and trying to get away from the two guys holding him.

"Biffy saw you," Gary argued back, just as enraged. "She saw you two dry humping in the park."

"That's my business, not yours!"

"Tell us, Morgs: How long you been getting into her queen-sized panties, the cheap slut?"

Derek broke the grip of one of the men and tried to charge. "Motherfucker! You're dead!"

"Fuck off!"

Two more players entered to calm them down, and unfortunately, one of them was Mark Brown.

"Brown!" Carlson snapped. "If you were smart, you'd sock him instead of holding him back! He's banging your girl behind your back."

"That's a lie!" Mark cried vehemently, and then he looked at Derek, his hand resting on Derek's shoulder. "Isn't it?"

Derek felt his gut clench. If he said anything, he'd ruin Penelope's relationship, just when it was getting off the ground. She was happy with Brown; she'd only kissed him to learn for Mark. He couldn't do that to her.

"No," he said flatly, shaking the other man's hand off his shoulder. He took a deeper breath and gave him the most sincere look he could muster. "No. No, man. For real—we're just friends."

Mark looked relieved. "That's what Penelope said, too, but I didn't exactly believe her."

"She wasn't lying! Did you think she was lying?" Derek questioned, scowling. "She's the best woman there is! You—"

"Brown!" the coach said from the corner. "We need you to do some practice throws if you wanna be backup QB."

"Coming, Coach!" Mark called out. He glanced at Derek with a touch of fear. "It's okay here? No more fighting?"

Derek and Carlson begrudgingly shook their heads.

After Mark Brown jogged away, Carlson said, "What a naïve fuck!"

"Can it, Carlson!" Jagger argued. "Rumors are rumors, but you know that one ain't true."

"Oh yeah?" Carlson sneered. "Why's that?"

"If Morgan had wanted to tap that, he could've had it all the times she was over. He ain't interested in that pussy," Jagger said with a laugh. "Right, Morgs?"

Derek shook his head, and he kept Penelope's reputation amongst his "friends." "Yeah."

Carlson looked chagrined. "That's probably right."

"Hell, yes, it's right." Jagger gave a shake of his full head of hair. "Besides, Brown's been fuckin' chipper. I think he's been getting it more than I've been getting it from JJ lately."

"That going sour?" Carlson asked and then glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. "Oh, shit. Speak of the devil..."

Jagger grinned at his girlfriend standing behind them. "Hey, babe!"

JJ walked up to Jagger, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him. "Tony. Let's go."

"Ummm...ah...ummm...sure, babe," Jagger said, trying to backpedal his way out of his comments.

Derek didn't want to hear any more; he grabbed his bag and took off.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews...Would you like a little trivia? My hubby named this story for me. I couldn't think of a title, and he came up with this one. Pretty snazzy, huh?...Okay, here we go with the next chapter!...

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**Chapter 15**

Although Penelope was far above average intelligence, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Derek had been avoiding her the past week. Sure, he always had a good excuse for not seeing her: work, exercise, practice, homework—well, that last one, not so much! However, she knew they were exactly that: excuses.

And she had a good idea why.

Ugh. She never should've asked him to kiss her. Two things came to mind. At first, she'd thought that maybe he felt awkward around her. She'd tried calling him to wish him good night, and he hadn't answered. She didn't see him in the morning like she usually did. She had to hunt him down to see him, and she had a feeling that maybe he didn't want to see her because it would be awkward.

The strange thing was that she felt the opposite. The kiss hadn't been awkward to her at all. It had been wonderful, terrific, beautiful...heartbreaking, but it hadn't been awkward to her in the least. It had felt completely natural.

It was like she'd been born to kiss Derek Morgan.

And then she'd thought that maybe it was because he was afraid she'd make a big thing out of it. That suddenly, she'd start acting like he needed to be a boyfriend, not a best friend. She'd had to convince him to do it, after all. He'd thought it was a bad idea.

She just didn't want to lose him in any capacity.

So, when she saw him, she acted exactly like herself. She'd kissed Mark Brown—it was pleasant at best, but nothing to write home about. She'd told Derek, told him his advice had worked and she was grateful.

It hadn't helped. For the rest of the week, he'd say something to her and then scamper away shortly after, like he had a fire to attend to. They hadn't spent even one day together since that kiss. It was disheartening, and it made her sad.

Penelope didn't want a thing like a kiss to get in the way of a good friendship, so she did what he used to do when he wanted to speak to her; she waited patiently outside his gym where he'd be working out.

Five minutes after sitting down, JJ and Jagger came out the door. From the tone of their voices, they sounded like they were arguing.

"You know, I'm just going to go home," JJ said.

Jagger was shrinking back. "Babe, don't do that. I got a night planned for us."

"Anthony. I don't like the way that..." she began, and then she saw Penelope sitting on the step. She forced a smile, but a genuine one, for Penelope. "Oh, hey there. How are you?"

"Fine," Penelope squeaked.

"JJ, come on," Jagger begged, his handsome face—gorgeous Italian good looks—pleading for mercy.

"Penelope, do you need anything?" JJ asked, concern in her baby blue eyes. "Do you need to get in or something? Maybe Jagger—"

"No, no. Go ahead." Penelope made shooing motions. "Go and talk."

"Penelope's right," Jagger said, wrapping an arm around JJ.

JJ shrugged it off, but he put it back around her, and eventually she gave in. "Okay. Goodbye, P."

Penelope waved. "Goodbye!"

Penelope's first instinct, that the relationship between Jagger and JJ was very stilted, seemed right on the money. She felt sad for the beautiful blonde woman, and although she knew Jagger and thought he was nice enough, if JJ was angry, Jagger deserved it.

A second later, Derek came out of the gym, holding an ice pack to his face.

"Oh, my sweetpea!" Penelope cried the moment she saw him, flying to her feet. "What on earth happened to you?"

Her usual specimen of male perfection and best friend in the whole wide world was sporting a rather nasty, red, swollen closed eye. It was so awful that it looked like he'd gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson.

"Carlson's fist," Derek grumbled, and then he grinned and added, "But he's got a swollen nose, so it's all fair."

"Let me see," she murmured, moving very close to him so she could see the damage.

Derek put a hand out. "Baby, I'm fine."

"Derek—"

"Don't you have a class you have to get to?"

"It can wait," she said stubbornly. "Show me and then tell me what happened."

Derek smiled down at her and then reached for her hand. "In a second, firecracker. We'll talk as we walk, and if we have time, you can check my eye."

Penelope growled internally as they started walking toward her class. God, she hated that Gary Carlson with a passion! Well, not hate—she didn't hate anyone, really—but she certainly disliked him greatly.

However, Mark had assured her that brawls just happened around the house for no good reason at all. Why Mark liked Gary so much, she would never know.

As they strolled, she asked, "What did Carlson do now?"

"Carlson was just being Carlson, baby," Derek said cryptically. It wasn't a good answer, but it was enough of an answer for her. Gary was an ass who caused fights, so there didn't need to be much reason.

Seriously, Gary Carlson and his girlfriend Biffy—such an uppity person, considering she was named for a toilet!—were the nastiest people to ever grace the college campus. She could give Carlson some credit; at least he avoided her like she didn't exist whenever she came to visit Derek or Mark. Biffy, on the other hand, had taken great pleasure in sniggering over her and her relationship with Derek with any of the other players' girlfriends that would listen.

In that house, it was a great many willing ears. Sadly, those other girlfriends around the house had originally seemed nice when Penelope first met them. Until Biffy arrived. Then they always seemed to follow like sheep. Penelope could hear it now...

"_That girl," Biffy said in a stage whisper to her friends, rolling her eyes and tossing her silvery blonde hair. "Why is she even here?"_

"_She's Derek Morgan's '__friend,'"__ another girl, a Biffy __clone—usually__ one that had drooled over Derek in the __past—whispered__ back._

"_Maybe she's fun to talk to?" __a new__, naïve little girl said._

"_All ugly girls are. Haven't you heard?" Kija, one of the kissing cheerleaders said, rolling her eyes. "They have great personalities."_

_Snickering would start and shift from Penelope to talk about Derek's latest flame..._

"_Oh! I heard he's dating Tiffani Alonzo," the clone added. "She's in track."_

"_She's fast in other ways, too, I heard," Kija __commented, "which__ is why he's dating her!"_

"_Total slut!" Biffy barked out, pretending to sneeze into her hand to gain more laughter._

Penelope accidentally kicked a rock, which brought her back to the conversation at hand.

"That doesn't surprise me," she said as she walked faster, trying to keep up with her long-limbed darling. "I'm just glad it wasn't about me this time."

Derek didn't respond, and normally she wouldn't have thought twice about it, but then her usually very graceful angelfish stumbled a bit.

She stopped in her tracks. "Oh. Oh, no, Hot Stuff. It was, wasn't it?"

Derek winced. "Baby..."

"Derek, you can't fight the world for me!" she snapped.

"Not the world," he snapped, and then muttered under his breath. "Just Carlson."

"I'm a pacifist by nature. I don't condone violence, even when people deserve it."

Derek looked stoic as he started walking. "Trust me, angel. He deserved it."

That look on his face... She knew he was far more upset than she had ever seen him before. He was nearly running, and she was out of breath following him. Near the path they were walking on, there was a bench that wasn't occupied. She grabbed his hand and dug her feet in, stopping his forward progress.

"Penelope, you're going to be late," he huffed.

"I don't care."

"Woman—"

"Sit!" she ordered, pointing to the bench.

Derek grumbled, but he took a seat anyway and then looked up at her. "Do I get a pat on the head and a 'good boy' for that?" he quipped sarcastically.

Even though he was glowering at her, his arms crossed defensively across his lean chest, and had a massive shiner over his eye, she still thought he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Before taking a seat, she patted the top of his curly hair.

"It's fitting," she answered and then winked. "With your eye all bruised like that, maybe I should call you Spot?"

Derek began to smile despite himself, and he uncrossed his arms from his chest and relaxed a little. They sat in silence beside each other before he said, "I know you're mad, but Penelope? I don't regret it."

"Fighting isn't the answer."

"I'll fight for you."

"I know, honey," she answered with a sigh, "and I love you for it. But you can't sock everyone who insults me."

"Why can't I?"

She glanced at him, and as ridiculous as that had sounded to her, one look at his stubborn face told her he was serious. Gently, she patted his knee. "D, I'm a big girl. I don't need your protection."

"Well, too bad," he said back. "You got it anyway."

"Derek," she whined.

"Penelope," he whined back in the same tone.

She huffed. "That is ridiculous."

"I protect those I love," he said simply. "It's who I am, Baby Girl. Take it or leave it."

Penelope's heart skipped a beat, and her eyes watered and overflowed. She gave him a slight shove. "Don't make me all watery before class."

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head softly. "Sorry about that."

She chuckled. He didn't sound the least bit sorry, but it felt oh so good to be held by him again. He must've felt the same way, because he didn't move, either. They simply sat there on the bench, Penelope curled up against his side and Derek's arm wrapped around her, tight and secure and filled with warmth.

The world was right again...but all good things have to come to an end.

"You coming to the cookout Friday with Brown?"

The mention of her date's name made her stomach sink and chilled the warmth she was feeling. It also reminded her that she didn't belong there, no matter how much she wanted it to be so.

"Yeah," she said, sitting up and away from him. She forced a smile. "You bringing Tiffani?"

He shook his head. "Nah. That fire burnt itself out."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Nothing to talk about, I guess."

"Well, there will be lots of girls there," she said with false cheer.

"Oh yeah," he said dreamily. "Amber Anderson will be there."

Amber. Another bimbo.

She frowned. "Derek. There's nothing to talk about with Amber, either."

"I know," he said with a wiggle of his brows, "but she's got legs that won't quit and an ass that's on fire."

"Derek, you'll never find a good girlfriend that way," she argued. "You deserve better."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," she teased, rolling her eyes. "Maybe someone you can talk to?"

"Ah. See? I don't need them to talk to." He reached his hand up and tapped her nose. "I'd rather talk to _you_."

Penelope's heart fell into her stomach. It hurt so much that she felt like he'd punched her in the chest. She knew he'd meant that to be complimentary, but it had fallen miles short of a compliment. It just seemed to give credence to what Biffy had said about...

He hadn't meant it like that. She knew it. Derek had never been like them. She knew that. He always brought her up, made her smile...made her forget who she was. He wasn't like them. He didn't mean it like that.

So what if he only liked her for her "personality."

Her stomach twinged and her self-confidence melted away.

Sadly, this was the only time Derek had ever made her feel ugly...even if he didn't mean to.

Before she did something idiotic like cry, she forced a smile and stood. "You're hopeless."

"But you love me anyway," he remarked, as he put the ice bag back on his eye, and stood.

As he grabbed her bag, and then looped an arm around her, she sighed, answering bittersweetly, "Yeah, I do."


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I figured we needed to move things along...So now we're cooking with gas... LOL.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

For the next few days, Derek really was extremely busy with his work. He wanted to save some extra money for the party on Friday, and he was pulling extra hours. However, he wasn't letting that keep him from his best friend.

Pulling into his driveway, Derek moved his kickstand down and locked his cycle into place. The moment he dismounted the bike, he was running, taking his helmet off in the process and tucking it under his arm.

"Morgs, man," Jagger began. He was out, sneaking a cigarette on the front porch. "I got some—"

Derek ignored him and headed up the stairs. He had more important business than to spend the time shooting the breeze with Jagger.

After tossing his helmet aside into the ratty old armchair he had in his room, he reached for the phone and took a seat on the edge of his bed.

The dulcet tones of one of the Whiz-kids next door answered the phone. "Hello?"

He didn't recognize the voice. He only knew a couple of the women in P's sorority. "Is Penelope in?"

"I'll get her. Just a sec."

Derek waited, hearing the collective sounds of television, girls talking, and music in the background. Strauss must be gone; there usually wasn't any noise by the time he called. It was late Thursday night, after work; he usually tried to call Penelope after work. In turn, she usually picked up after a half ring, sneaking to use the phone when the house mother wouldn't know. Most of the time when he called, it was late, around ten, but this night, it was later than usual.

Not that he hadn't tried to hurry. He was in such a rush, he hadn't bothered to change from his chicken delivery outfit. He'd worn the same work shirt two days in a row, and he'd worked hard closing the place both days. He knew had to be pretty rank.

Doing something only a guy would do, he lifted his arm, gave a quick sniff, and pulled a face. A second later, he put the phone down, tugged the shirt over his head, and tossed it in the corner.

"Hello? Is this Derek? Are you there?" he heard and quickly picked the phone up.

"Hey, baby," Derek cooed over the phone to the only woman in the world for whom he reserved that tone of voice. He was blessed with a nice baritone voice, but for Penelope, late at night, he dropped it a few octaves.

"Hi, pumpkin."

He lay back on his bed, propping one arm behind his head, and smiled, letting her voice carry him away to somewhere happy. "What's new with you?"

"Oh...nothing."

Derek noticed her voice sounded less upbeat than usual. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, really," she said with a sigh that meant it really was something. "How was your day at work?"

"It was good. What's wrong?"

"Derek..."

"Don't _Derek_ me," he warned, but sweetly. "Tell me. I'll tickle it out of you if I have to."

She giggled. "You don't fight fair."

"Nope."

"Fine," she said and then whispered, "I have to take you upstairs, so hang with me."

A warning bell went off in Derek's head. If Penelope didn't want her housemates listening, that wasn't a good sign. His stomach muscles tensed. "That serious?"

"Ummm..." He could hear her door shutting and a slight pant of breath as she crawled up into her bunk. "There. This is better."

"Baby Girl..."

"Now who's giving that _Baby Girl_ tone?" she teased.

He was too concerned to even smile. "Honey, please."

"Okay. Here goes." Penelope sighed. "I'm not doing so well in one of my classes."

That surprised him. "What do you mean?"

"You know I got here on my quiz team, theatre, and art scholarships?" she explained.

"Yes."

"Well, I need to maintain a 3.75 in my art classes, and I'm not doing that right now," she continued. "I'm close, but I'm not 3.75."

"In art?" he asked, absolutely dumbfounded. "Angel, you rock art. Why on earth are you not doing so well?"

"I'm late on an assignment," she mumbled quickly. "But don't worry! I shall finish it a week before this semester ends."

"That's in a week, baby."

"I know," she said bleakly. "I didn't mean to let it get so far behind, but...I did, and well, I deserve what happens."

"No, you don't," he argued. Even if she _did_ deserve the consequences, she _didn't_ in his book. "What can I do to help?"

"Nothing!" she squeaked nervously, causing him to frown.

"Penelope, sweetheart, I don't mind."

"No! This is my problem, Hot Stuff, and I have to fix it myself," she rambled adamantly. "My mess, my fix."

He chuckled softly. He knew better than to argue when she got that tone. "Okay, okay."

She heaved a sigh of relief, and then she said rather sadly, "I just need to spend some time at the museum tomorrow, and then I can finish this thing."

He shuddered. Thank God he wasn't helping. He didn't want to go to the museum with her. She took forever, looking over every art piece.

"Oh, that should be oka—Tomorrow?" he asked as the date registered. "Penelope, tomorrow is the Gamma Phi cookout."

"I know," she said miserably. "I can't go."

Immediately, Derek sat up in indignation. That wasn't acceptable. Penelope had to go. It wouldn't be any fun without her. She made everything better. He needed her there.

Even if she wasn't his date.

"Did you tell Brown you're not coming?" he muttered with a growl, knowing he sounded a touch jealous and bitter.

"Yes," she answered with another miserable sigh. "He isn't happy with me, but that's another story."

"What story?"

She sighed. "Derek. Not tonight, please?"

He groaned internally. When she got that tone of voice, she meant what she said, and he wouldn't push it. He needed a different tact and to stay on the same topic of conversation as he was before. Maybe he could help her, so she could go. He just had to do it in a different manner.

"Angel, I know it's your problem, but maybe I could help?"

"At the museum?"

He almost laughed. She sounded as sour about him coming with as he did about going. "Why do you need to go to the museum for this anyway?"

"Because the subject I was drawing is there," she said and then added under her breath, "kinda."

That was weird. "Kinda?"

"Anyway, the museum is only open late on Fridays, and the area with the statues has a nice viewing podium," she said, ignoring his question. "That should do it for me, I hope, and I can turn this picture into Madame."

"How about after?"

"After?" she questioned.

"When you're done drawing, baby. The party will be going until after midnight at the bluffs," he said. "I can come back and pick you up." He forced himself to add, "Or Brown can."

There was a ruckus in the background, along with a few screeching girls. A second later, he heard the door opening and then Prentiss's voice. "Strauss is back!"

"Derek, I gotta go," Penelope said quickly, adding, "I love you."

Before he could respond, she hung up...and then he _really_ started thinking about their conversation.

* * *

Walking into her nearly empty dorm late that Friday evening, Penelope tossed her portable easel aside in disgust. All afternoon, and for many days post-class before that, she'd spent hours sitting in front of naked Grecian statues, trying her best to finish her drawing that was hopelessly incomplete. No matter what she did, she came up blank. She'd drawn things—pots filled with grapes, a little wreath that was perched on one of the statue's head—but nothing related to her drawing. Although they were beautiful replicas of the original works of Michelangelo, she wasn't inspired by them.

They were lovely works of art...but they weren't Derek Morgan.

The moment she took her drawing out and started unfolding it, she became transfixed, captured by the firm muscles and sleekness of lines of the arms that she'd drawn. Even more, she was reminded of how those arms felt around her, so warm and alive, how they comforted, protected, and aroused her. And the lips, chiseled, perfectly fashioned, yet so soft, warm, evoking...

No, those statues were no comparison, and because of that, her picture was still unfinished.

Penelope rolled up the picture and put it back in the art tube. God in Heaven, she needed to get that picture done. She didn't want to lose her scholarship and head back home to her parents' home.

She crawled up into her bunk and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift to that day in the classroom, when he'd stood there, magnificently naked and so beautiful. She remembered sketching the slight definitions of his tummy, his lean, long thighs, and even his bare toes. She'd wanted to be brave enough to look downward at his erection, to draw the subtle curve of his shaft jutting forward and the wiry-looking nest of hair above it, but she'd been too embarrassed to stare and get the necessary details. Now...now her fingers itched to touch it, like she was a sculptor instead of a painter.

She felt herself flush and heat, her breath coming faster as she dreamed. A warm, tingling sensation began building between her legs, and she stroked her tummy...and lower.

"Garcia?" her housemate Angie said, opening her door.

Penelope's eyes flew open, and she glanced at the door guiltily, as if the other girl had seen her thoughts. "Yes?" she squeaked.

Angie smiled. "You have a visitor."

Guessing who it was, she shook her head and then jumped down from her bed and started down the stairs. Through the screen door, she could see Derek standing on the front porch.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, scolding him. Truly, she was glad he was there, but that was selfish, and she didn't like being selfish. He should be with his friends, having fun, not worrying about his little _buddy_. "What are you-"

"Did you finish the drawing of me tonight?"

It was the first time he ever really interrupted her, and boy! He did it with a bang. Penelope could feel the blood drain from her face. "H-How...h-how..."

"I did a lot of thinking after you hung the phone up on me last night," he said solemnly. "About what you were drawing and why you were so dead set against me helping you," he continued. "You sounded off, Baby Girl."

"I did?" she answered in a breathy tone.

Derek's eyes twinkled in a way that caused her stomach to flip. "You did."

"Oh..." she whispered.

"The way you answered...it made me think. I thought about other things, like how you never showed me that picture. I always wondered why...and then I remembered you never show me things until you're done." He paused and looked her in the eyes, asking point blank. "Is it me, Baby Girl?"

She couldn't lie to him. She couldn't, not with him looking at her so directly, being so earnest. He deserved better than that.

Blushing ferociously, she looked down at her feet and whispered, "Yes."

"Are you done with it yet?"

She shot her gaze back up at him, and she couldn't reply, but the answer was clearly written on her face.

Derek had a firm expression that stated no nonsense, and he started listing orders. "I'll be in my house, waiting for you. No one else is home; they're at the party."

Oh, dear God. He was going to pose for her.

She couldn't speak. She wondered if she'd even remembered to breathe.

"We'll go in separately. Leave your room through the fire escape and then come in mine the same way so Strauss doesn't see you. You know where it is," he instructed.

She couldn't let him do this. In his small room, naked. It was...Oh, God. She just couldn't!

"Derek—"

With a look, he stopped her from replying. "You will finish that picture, Penelope."

And then he was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

AN:Thank you for the reviews...Big ol' chapter. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Drawing on every ounce of courage she had, Penelope descended the fire escape outside her window with her artist's kit on her back. She also had the words from her roommate, unusually home on a Friday night, to bolster her ego. Still, her hands were shaking as she touched the rungs of the ladder and thought about what Emily Prentiss had told her.

"_Tell him how you feel about him, Garcia."_

_Penelope was sliding on her colorful smock, and she paused to shoot a surprised look at Prentiss. "This is coming from you?"_

_Emily waved her hand in dismissal. "I know what I said earlier. I've been in classes with him, and I think he's not what I'd thought he was." She gave Penelope an earnest look. "I know that makes no sense, but trust me. He's a good guy, Penelope."_

_Penelope __smiled brightly. "I already knew that. He's perfect."_

_Her roommate giggled a very un-Prentiss like giggle. "Someone is smitten."_

"_I already knew that, too," Penelope began, her cheeks heating as she thought of how much she loved Derek._

"_Well, go tell __him, then!" Prentiss__ said, shooing her __toward__ the window._

_Self-doubt hit her as she moved. "But he also deserves someone better than me."_

"_What?" Em asked. "Like what?"_

"_I don't know. Someone more popular, prettier, more athletic." She sighed and looked down at the carpet in their room. "Someone...more."_

"_Garcia. Look at me."_

_She did as Emily bid her._

_Prentiss arched a fine brow at her. "Shouldn't HE be the judge of that?"_

With the words of Prentiss in her heart, Penelope descended the ladder bravely.

The air was cool, and there was still low light in the sky, as was common with late spring/early summer nights. She finally reached the ground, jumping down on the springy grass. She quickly made her way over to Gamma Phi House and went to the side of the building. There was only one light on the top floor, making Derek's room easy to find, although she'd know where it was blindfolded. She'd spent so many nights in there, talking with Derek when the rest of the house was watching sports.

As she ascended the fire escape on Derek's building, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. When she stepped onto his platform, the window opened and Derek's hand appeared to help her inside.

"Hi," he said softly. He was already shirtless, the bare expanse of his lean, nearly hairless chest drawing her gaze and refusing to let go.

She forced herself to meet his eyes. "H-Hi."

"Make yourself comfortable," he said ironically. There was no way in hell she was going to be comfortable!

"O-Okay," she stammered as she put her easel down and started setting up.

Derek took two steps closer to her; she could see his feet appearing as she stared at the ground. He was so close, she could smell the clean, masculine scent of his skin. There was a hint of spice, along with freshness, like the ocean had kissed him.

"You hungry? Thirsty?" he asked, his deep voice a purr of polite concern that brought shivers to her spine.

"N-No," she said, taking her art case off her back, but then she thought about her answer. "I mean yes, I'll make myself comfortable but...I mean no, I already ate and—oh shit!"

She'd tried to do three things—stare at Derek, talk, and set up—and she'd failed miserably. As she'd unzipped her case, everything had fallen onto the floor: her pencils and erasers scattered everywhere and rolled under his bed; her chalk smashed and left a powdery mess. She fell to her knees, scrambling to pick things up with her shaking hands as tears sprang to her eyes. She was already screwing everything up.

Derek knelt next to her, picking things up, and she reached to get them herself. He shouldn't have to clean up after her, too!

"Penelope...baby," he said softly, reaching for her hand and forcing her to stop.

"I-I'm sorry!"

"Sweetheart, please don't be nervous." The warmth in his eyes was strong, true and beautiful, and caressed her soul. "It's just me, silly Derek, your crazy ol' Hot Stuff, helping you get a project done."

"I know...I just..." She took a deep breath and blurted it out. "You're the only naked man I've ever seen before, and it's...a little overwhelming."

He gave her a smile—a Dereky smirk that made her smile, too. "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted."

"Flattered," she responded quickly, and then looked down before winking at him with a grin. "Hugely flattered."

He chuckled. "That, I like!"

It was silent again as she rose to her feet with everything. Her hands were still shaking, regardless of how hard she tried to calm herself. She took a deep, resolute breath, and said, "Well, I supposed you should position yourself—"

"Would you like a drink?" he asked.

"_Yes!_" she practically shouted, which made them both laugh and smile.

"Come on, angel," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Let's go see what I have downstairs."

* * *

After leftover hamburgers, chips, watermelon, and two glasses of punch, Penelope felt worlds better and a lot less nervous. She'd been glad that Derek had gone to the cookout, but disapproved that he'd come back to check on her. Still, she knew there was no changing Derek's mind on things.

"Well, I'm glad you got to go to part of the party," she said, taking a sip of the last part of her second cup of punch.

"It wasn't that much fun," he said and then warned, "Careful with the punch, baby. It's spiked."

"I know," she said. It was going to her head, relaxing her a little bit. "I'm all right."

"Okay," he said, starting to clean the kitchen up.

For a minute, what he'd said reverberated in her head. "Derek. Why wasn't it fun?"

He tossed rinds in the garbage and put a plate in the sink. "You weren't there."

That warmth that she always felt when he said something like that crept over her and made her tingle happily. How easy it would be to just throw herself into his arms and declare that he was the most wonderfully delicious person on the planet.

Of course, she hadn't drunk that much to actually do that yet...

He was drying his hands on a towel and took a few steps closer to her. "You ready?"

"Yes." Strange thing was, she truly meant it. She was so relaxed with them talking and hanging out like normal that she knew everything was going to be fine. It was just Derek and her, like always.

Derek grabbed a beer, and Penelope took one more glass of punch, and then they climbed the stairs. When they reached his room, she pulled her easel closer and then sat on the edge of his bed. Derek, as an upperclassman, didn't have to deal with roommates or bunks. He had an extra long twin bed that took up most of the room, but it _was_ his room alone.

Derek began taking his shoes and socks off, hopping on one foot. That made her smile. He was such an athlete, he even did that gracefully. She would've been on her head if she tried the same move. When his hands moved to his jeans button, she began to panic a little. Not because he was going to be naked; she was moving past that anxiety and behaving more adult now that she'd settled. Now, it was a whole other problem.

"Umm...maybe we...umm...need to wait for a moment?"

He paused and frowned slightly. "What?"

"You need to be exactly like that day—"

"I 'm gonna be," he explained with an eyebrow waggle and a drawl. "That's why I'm nekkid."

"Perhaps you need a minute?"

He sighed. "Woman. You talk in riddles. What do you mean?"

Clearing her throat, she asked, "Derek, do you need a magazine or something?"

He frowned in confusion.

Mother of pearl, she was going to have to spell it out for him, and she really didn't want to say it. Her cheeks burned in mortification, but she took a deep breath and said, "Derek, you have to be...aroused."

"This is about me having an erection?"

Dear Lord! It felt like she was spending this entire time staring at the floor! Still, she bravely continued, "I know most guys need visual inspiration, and I'm not exactly—"

"Pump your brakes," he said, interrupting her. He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. "You think I don't have a hard-on right now?"

_Oh, God...shoot me __now._

"Sweetheart," he said, caressing the side of her face with his thumb, "A woman like you is all a man would need. Pretty skin, big, beautiful eyes, a gorgeous smile. Hell, yes. Everything a man would need."

She thought about nasty Biffy and her comments and Carlson's disgusting words about her being unfuckable. Besides, she wasn't born yesterday; she knew where she stood with Derek—firmly in friendship's corner. He knew that, too.

Goodness. Now she was a little angry! It was cruel for him to tease her and say otherwise at a moment like this, when she was trying to be professional and provide him time for whatever he needed. She raised her chin defensively. "Derek, I know better. I mean, I know—ohhhh."

As she'd spoken, Derek had unzipped his pants and dropped them to the ground. Currently, his erection was poking forward, causing a rather huge tent in his boxers.

"Believe me now?" he asked rhetorically.

She was wide-eyed, shocked and embarrassed, but damn, she was pleased, too. Holy cow, was she ever pleased! She nodded, and although she bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stop it, a huge grin won and took over her face.

Derek was smirking, but only slightly. "I'm glad you're satisfied."

Penelope thought of a quick retort, but she bit that back, too. She wasn't quite ready to go there yet!

"Ummm..." She paused to take a big sip of her drink, letting the potent fluid zap her brain and numb the blood racing throughout her body. She then smiled at Derek and held up her pencil. "Okay. Let's begin."

Derek grinned and dropped his boxers to the floor.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Penelope was all business, sketching away at the delicious lines and planes of Derek's body. Just like that day in art class, she wanted to reach out and touch him, like a master sculptor with clay, but it was even more intense now. She knew how he felt, how his skin was both soft and rough, how warm and real he was.

Speaking of warm, she was quickly overheating. Between the alcohol and the excitement, it felt like a furnace in Derek's room. It didn't help that as she drew, she kept getting drawn to his erection. All sorts of thoughts swam in her mind. She'd touched his arms and his legs, but she'd never touched him there. Would it be smooth? Would it feel like his hands? Would it be hot, just like the rest of his body? She couldn't help wondering how it felt...and how it would feel inside of her, down low, where even more heat and an ache began to build. Thinking about it made her flush, like when she watched a romance or read a steamy novel.

"Whew, I'm hot," she said out loud, fanning herself. The words were more for herself; she was trying to change her mental subject from what she was really thinking. At this rate, she'd never get the picture done.

"You should take off your shirt," he offered helpfully. "Heat rises in these old houses, and we're on the top floor. As much as I love your colorful smock, it's got to go."

That backfired.

"Not a good idea," she said quickly.

"Why?"

"I'm not wearing a shirt."

Derek took a step to his dresser, pulled out a tank top, and tossed it to her. "There you go. This is cool."

The material was a very thin cotton, like what he used to work out it. Basically, it was a sweat catcher, not a shirt. "D...that's gonna be kinda exposing."

He pulled a face. "Says the girl to the naked man..."

She sighed and then chuckled. She was being silly. "Okay. Turn around for a second."

Derek did as he was instructed, giving her a lovely view of his backside. He had the cutest butt, round and firm, with two little dimples at the top.

Trying to stop her lecherous thoughts, she unbuttoned her smock, shrugged it off, and then pulled on his tank top. She could see the lace of her bra through the shirt, but the room did feel instantly cooler. It was almost chilly, and goose bumps rose on her arms.

"Okay. Turn around," she said.

"Whoa." Derek immediately stared at her chest, his mouth agape. "Oh, damn, girl."

Immediately, she crossed her arms over them and glared at him. "I told you it would be kind of exposing!"

Her nipples were standing up, and his gaze was locked on them. She noticed he didn't even bother to try looking away.

"Yeah...yeah," he muttered, and said something else unintelligible. He looked kind of pained.

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry. I can put my smock back on?"

"No!" he said quickly and then groaned. "No, honey. I'm not complaining." He shook his head. "Hell, no."

"Oh. Okay."

That look on his face—the pained one—had lessened, but she glanced downward, and his erection had grown even larger, a little darker, and it looked... damp. Her fingers itched, she wanted to touch it so badly. She shot her gaze back to his.

Derek was trying to smile, but it wasn't working so well. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt—and for the same reasons!

She continued sketching, trying to absorb what was happening. That crazy grin she couldn't stop was back again. She had so many feelings. She felt a little loopy, and happy, and tingly, and hot, and her drawing was coming around wonderfully. But she was mostly pleased, because for a moment—and maybe only for tonight—she knew Derek Morgan desired her, just like she desired him.

That was more heady than the punch she'd drunk.

"Maybe we should talk?" Penelope asked, hoping that maybe that would keep her mind from wandering to the impossible...like a happily ever after with Derek. Normally, she didn't talk when she sketched. She focused, and lost herself in the drawing.

"Sure."

"This is really beautiful; I can't wait for you to see." She smiled warmly. "I'll always be grateful to you. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Derek growled, his voice a touch huskier than it was before.

Derek's eyes...his eyes held her captive. They were darker, more hypnotic and sensual than she'd ever remembered before. How she wanted those eyes to look at her every day like that, with passion and want brimming in their depths. She wanted him to want her, like she wanted—

Her heart pounded in her chest, overflowing with emotion. It ached, too, knowing it wasn't real. It was the ribald situation. It was torture to think otherwise.

As if on cue, Derek spoke again. "Penelope...Brown brought another girl to the picnic."

Penelope kept drawing. She knew he'd ask sooner or later, but she hadn't anticipated now. It hurt that he was thinking of her boyfriend. "Yes, I know."

"He said you broke up. What happened?" he asked. He reached down for his bottle, and took a long pull of his beer. After, he wiped his mouth. Such a gorgeous mouth, with beautiful, full lips.

She erased a line she'd drawn. It was a little blurry, that line, like the line between her feelings for him and their friendship right now. "It's kind of embarrassing."

"Why, honey?"

Penelope put her pencil and eraser down. She needed to take a break—her head was swimming a little—and now was as good of a time as any. "I need a minute."

Derek, in all his naked glory, took a seat next to her on his bed. "Sounds good. Need a drink?"

"No," she answered. Her head was already fuzzy.

"Tell me about Brown," he asked.

She shook her head and chuckled. Derek was like a dog with a bone. "You never give up, do you?"

"Nope."

"Okay," she replied, rolling her eyes teasingly at him. She paused, trying to think her response out carefully. "It...wasn't working between us."

"Even with the kisses?"

She could feel herself flushing again. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"It's just...wasn't good," she explained.

"I thought you liked his kisses?" he commented. There was a touch of snark that smacked slightly of...jealousy?

"No," she answered slowly.

"What was wrong with them?" he asked flatly, and that time, clear as the nose on her face, jealousy was there.

Penelope's heart skipped a beat, and a warm feeling of hope came over her. What if she wasn't reading him wrong? What if Prentiss was right? What if he loved her just as much as she loved him?

Didn't they deserve that chance?

_I need to tell him. I have to tell him the truth, _she thought.

"It didn't feel right." Mustering all her courage, Penelope said what was in her heart, what was begging to be said. "Perfect. Like how I feel when I kiss you."

At first, he was quiet, obviously surprised, the cool knocked out of him. But then her breath caught in her throat as the warmth and hunger she felt for him was echoed in his gorgeous face.

"Oh, Penelope," he whispered as he lowered his mouth to hers.


	18. Chapter 18

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. You guys make me smile, laugh, and cheer along with you. Sending you much love!...This chapter contains sexual content. If that isn't your thing, skip to the next chapter...

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**Warning: Sexual Content**

**Chapter 18**

As Penelope looked up at Derek, her beautiful, sherry-colored eyes and her decadent full lips beckoning him closer, he knew he was going to kiss her before she'd even said those wonderful last words. The fact that his kisses had moved her as much as her kisses had moved him simply made it all the more sweet.

Derek knew they had to talk. The moment Brown had arrived with the perky redhead that had kissed Derek at the party a few months ago, Derek had been both upset and worried about Penelope.

"_Where's Penelope?" he asked Mark sternly. If that bastard was cheating on Penelope..._

"_I don't want to talk about her," Mark said, putting his chin in the air. "I have better things to focus on here with Thalia."_

Within a minute, Derek had left them and jogged to his bike, ready to race home. Brown didn't want to talk about Penelope, but Derek did. He'd wanted to talk _to_ her. If she'd been hurting, he would've driven back up there to kick Brown's ass.

And then he'd started thinking some more—about what Penelope was doing that Friday night and why she was doing it—and that perhaps she was okay about Brown. Perhaps it was her who'd done the dumping, not Mark.

Knowing she was fine...and free... Needless to say, he'd driven far over the speed limit to get to Penelope's house.

"Baby," Derek murmured, brushing his lips over hers. Her mouth was soft, so soft, just like he'd remembered. Their first kiss they'd shared had rocked his soul; she wasn't the only one to have been so moved by a kiss. He'd never felt anything like that, and it had chilled him to the bone to think that he might never feel it again.

As they traded soft kisses, he could feel her breath, light and airy, slightly fruity from the punch that she'd drunk. He wanted to devour her, but he was taking it light and easy. He wanted to savor her, to taste her completely and etch her into his soul, tattoo her on his heart. God, how he wanted her in every way a man could want a woman.

Derek nipped at her mouth, soft, sweet, gentle little kisses that showed her in his words and his actions just how much she meant to him. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, a light little taste that encouraged her to open and take just a bit more, to taste him and fall right along with him, deeper and deeper into what was between them. What it was...he didn't dare name it—he wasn't that brave.

In his heart, he knew.

They were at an awkward angle, sitting side by side, and he wanted more. He wanted to feel her under him, on the bed—his bed—reaching for him, taking what he had to give. He wanted her under him, over him, surrounding him. He had so much he wanted to give to her, to show her, to teach her. He didn't want to force anything; she was far more inexperienced than him. His passion was building, yet she'd stayed still, not moving, only breathing, soft little breathless pants that rivaled his own.

And then she touched him. She simply brought her hands to his shoulders, lightly, turning herself more into the kiss. It was the invitation Derek had been waiting for. He threaded his fingers through her thick, honey hair, cupped her skull, and dove into the kiss with all the pent-up desire that was building in him. He caught her next moan with his mouth, sealed and seared her lips with his own. Gone was gentle, to be replaced by burgeoning need and want far-too-long repressed. Tasting moved to consuming in record time as he dipped his tongue in her mouth, gliding along the sweet velvet of her own.

He let his hands drift down her back, to the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. He wanted to feel her body, the press of those beautiful breasts. And damn, she had beautiful breasts! When she'd removed her smock, he'd been transfixed. Round, high on her chest, with perfect nipples... It had taken everything in his power not to tackle her and make love to those breasts. He wanted to feel those nipples scrape his chest as he plunged into her.

God, he was getting carried away. She was a virgin. She might not be ready for this now, and he would respect that. He'd wanted her for so long—no other girl would do—but he cared more about her. Her pleasure, that's what he was focused on and where his focus needed to remain.

Trying to regain his resolve, he lowered his hands to caress her lush bottom. She felt so, so good under his hands, all soft, sweet woman. He tugged her closer, her thigh sandwiched against his, knowing it wouldn't be enough, nowhere near enough for him.

He doubted he'd ever get enough of her.

"Damn, Penelope," he moaned from somewhere deep in his throat. "I want you. I want you so much."

"You don't need to say that," she whispered, stopping to kiss the side of his mouth, his bottom lip. "No need."

Normally, he would take that kind of comment and think it was sex talk, but this was Penelope. She didn't have the experience to say those kind of things. That gave him pause. She meant that...and not in a good way. He held back a touch. "What do you mean?"

Penelope gave a sad little laugh. "You don't need to say those things."

He arched a brow. "Why wouldn't I say it?"

"I know I'm not the kind of girl men see across bars and write songs about." She shrugged, in a self-conscious, thoroughly resolved way. "I'm no Amber Anderson."

Derek couldn't help but stare at her. Jesus. She had no idea, none at all, what she did to him. He didn't know if he should shake her, or kiss her, but he knew she needed to hear it.

Abruptly, he released her and then stood up.

Her eyes were round like saucers and her mouth was drawn in a roux of shock. "D-Derek, what—eep!"

"Baby Girl," he said as he scooped her up in his arms, "I have never lied to you, and I will never lie to you." He plopped her in the middle of his bed, and she bounced just a bit on his springy mattress. "I grew up in a house full of women; I know better than to lie to one of them. I want you."

Caught off guard, she tried to scramble to a seated position, saying meekly, "I know."

"No, Penelope, you don't know," he said, lowering himself over her, pressing her back down, and bracing himself on his forearms. "Sweetheart, I want you. I have always wanted you. I wanted you from the minute I met you, sprawled out on the sidewalk with your glasses all fogged up. I think about you, holding you...kissing you...all the time."

"You do?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

"I do." Unable to resist, he leaned down to kiss right where the curve of her jaw and the length of her neck met.

"But the kind of girls you date...like Amber and Kija and Thalia and—"

"I don't want Amber or any of the other girls tonight or any night." He leaned close, holding her gaze captive. "I want you. Only you. I've always wanted you, and I couldn't have you because I was too damn dumb and scared to face up to what this was."

Oh, God. Now he'd done it. He was doing what he always did with her—saying too much.

"What is this, Derek?" she asked, looking up at him, her heart in her eyes. She placed her hand on his cheek. "Between us?"

He turned his face and kissed her hand, and then she trapped his gaze with her starlit eyes. "Baby Girl, I think it's love."

As he spoke, he began trembling. He'd never been in love before, and it was awesome and terrifying at the same time.

"Oh, Derek!" she cried and then wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss.

When their mouths met, Derek kissed her full force, every ounce of love and want and desire pouring forth from every pore. Their tongues mated and danced, and their bodies pressed together without even an inch of room, and yet, it wasn't close enough. He reached for her tank top and tugged it up and off her, and she wriggled under him to help him free it.

His fingers felt like all thumbs as he worked on the fastening of her bra, continuing to kiss her, deep, intoxicating, soul-stirring kisses, filled with eager wonder and innocence. His body burned with the need to make love to her. His heavy cock, aroused before, was now thrumming and aching with his need. He thrust his hips forward into her soft belly, both torturing and pleasuring himself at the same time, and shuddered with need when he heard her answering gasp.

Finally, he bared her breasts, and he leaned back to see them. In order for her to draw and get the proper shadows, she'd removed the shade from the bedside lamp. The bright light illuminated the pale ivory skin of her breasts, the most delicate pink of her budding nipples. They were so beautiful, firm and large, like the best peaches that were just out of reach at an orchard. But these were in reach, and they were beckoning him.

Derek cupped each breast, testing their weight, and then he leaned forward and placed a kiss in the valley he'd created in between. Penelope's breathy sigh encouraged him as he trailed his mouth up to her nipple. She gasped as his lips closed around the peak, and as he began to suckle, she threaded her fingers in his curly hair, her hands trembling like the rest of her body. He drew on that nipple, teasing its mate with his fingers, before trading off and doing the opposite to each perfect breast.

Her breaths were becoming faster, more needy and full of want, and she wiggled and moved beneath him. She was moving underneath him, clutching his shoulders like he was the only firm ground in a storm. She arched, as if she were reaching for more, yet unsure of what it was. But he knew. Oh yes, he knew exactly what she needed, and what he needed, too.

He slid his hand down the gentle ridges of her ribs to her soft tummy, sliding beneath the band of her pants and panties. She stilled completely as he found the light thatch of hair between her legs. He touched the downy coating of hair, feeling wetness begin to coat his fingers. There was a moment of sweet, masculine satisfaction, having the proof that she wanted him, too, there on his hand.

He traced the path between her lips, parting her, making her jump in surprise. She moved her thighs closed and then let them fall gently open as he kissed her, soothing her with his mouth and his words. He stroked her, circling and tapping her little bud, until she began to writhe against his hand. When she began to shudder, he worked one finger down into her tight opening, and she cried out, her inner muscles clamping spasmodically on the intrusion, in a beautiful, shimmering climax.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured. He was beyond words. She was so...so...everything, and he had to have her. Now.

He withdrew his hand, and she moaned a soft, sleepy protest. "No... Come back."

"I'm right here, angel," he said softly, reaching for her pants and panties.

Understanding, she lifted her bottom as he began to tug them off. He took one long look at her, her large breasts, her silky white body, the curls between her plump thighs, and then back at her big, dark trusting eyes, and felt his cock surge yet again.

He reached into his drawer, removing a condom and donning it swiftly, and then moved on top of her again.

"Penelope," he murmured, placing a kiss on her neck. "I want to make love to you, but I can stop if you need me to. I can wait. If you don't—"

She leaned up to kiss him, silencing him, and opened her legs farther in wordless invitation. She arched up against him, trying to find him and complete this.

Reaching between their bodies, he gripped his erection in one hand, positioned himself, and began slow thrusts, working his way barely inside her. She was so tight, and he was sizable, so movements were gradual, and he was beginning to sweat with the effort.

"Are you okay?" he panted, looking down at her.

Her eyes were squeezed closed, her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and her fingernails were digging into his back with tenseness, yet she nodded briefly. He groaned and chuckled at the same time; no, she wasn't okay.

"Oh, baby...it'll be okay," he promised.

Derek leaned down and kissed her softly, tenderly, making the kisses deeper and stronger until he felt her move again beneath him. When she moaned and grasped at him, urging him on, he couldn't deny himself or her any longer. He surged forward, tearing through her innocence and burying himself completely in her slick warmth.

She gasped and panted, clutching him tightly in her arms, but Derek couldn't speak and comfort her as he wanted to. He was struck deaf, blind, and mute. He was seeing stars and sparks, Catherine wheels of fireworks danced behind his eyelids, and his blood was roaring in his ears in an audible rush. He felt the warm throb of her body surrounding him, underneath him, matching the throb of his. They were together—one heartbeat, united and stronger.

Unable to resist, he began moving his hips, thrusting and groaning. Those heartbeats moved now in synch, dancing together like their bodies, their mouths, their tongues. He pressed on and on, sweating hard, burying himself and retreating, only to come back to her over and over again. This was it, what he was meant for. He needed this more than he needed to breathe.

He opened his eyes and watched her face, her lids closed, her brow furrowed, her mouth puckered, as if she were close to completion, too. He hoped she was close and that she was okay, and he wanted to ask her, but oh... Ah, God, it felt good. It was good. It was so fucking good...

"Oh Derek...oh, God!" she cried, and he felt it, the velvety grasp tightening around him, quickening, pulsing. The moment hung in time; she sobbed softly, holding him close, whispering, "Love you...love you."

Derek cried out, thrusting hard, deep inside her, as he began to come in heavy, voluptuous spurts. He shook under her arms, could see and feel nothing but her and the beat of her heart.


	19. Chapter 19

AN: Thank you for the reviews...Since we had to wait so long to get here, here's a little more fun and games before we move on. If it's not your thing, skip forward to chapter 20.

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**Warning: Sexual content**

**Chapter 19**

Panting and still tingling from making love for the first time, Penelope was almost overwhelmed by the feelings she was having. There were so many of them, and all of them seemed to be conflicting. She couldn't remember a time that she'd ever felt so good, and yet, she was sore and aching in a spot that had never ached before in her life. She was blissfully happy, and yet, she felt like she could hold Derek and cry over the beauty that they'd just shared. She was exhausted, like she'd run a marathon, and yet, she was far too charged to rest. She wondered if Derek was having the same feelings, so she rolled from her back to her side to look at him.

Derek was sprawled out on his back with his eyes closed, and his breathing was fast, but steady. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face. He was so beautiful. Every part of him was beautiful. It made her want to explore him. She wondered, too, if he'd fallen asleep. She wouldn't begrudge him that; he'd worked very hard making love to her!

On impulse, she sat up partially and continued her visual tour of him, over the lean planes of his chest. She'd watched him playing catch shirtless so many times, she could count the little muscles that formed when he raised his arms. She looked at his flat, firm abdominal muscles with just a smattering of curling hairs on the lower section, leading to a thicket of curls. His pubic hair was far more dense than hers; she wondered if felt as springy as it looked.

Of course, resting in that nest and onto his thick thigh, his cock demanded the most of her attention. God, it looked huge, even in a sated state. The first time she'd really looked, she'd been surprised and perhaps even a little afraid. However, when she looked at him this time, her mouth went dry and her breathing quickened.

Guiltily, she glanced up at his face. One droplet of sweat had formed on his cheek and slowly rolled down his neck. She watched it for a second as it traveled, ending its journey by pooling in the indentation made by his collarbone. In a strange way, she was jealous of that drop. She wanted to trace that route with her finger and touch him.

She wanted to touch all of him.

Unable to help herself, she glanced where she wanted to touch the most. It was growing, rising like a cobra about to strike, beginning to jut away from his body toward her.

"Don't just look, sweetness," his voice, raspy with humor, called out.

She turned her surprised gaze to him.

He was smiling lazily, one of his arms folded behind his head, his dark eyes glinting with both amusement and sensuality. "Go ahead. Touch it."

Oh, she wanted to. They'd made love, and although it had been truly beautiful, she hadn't had a chance to touch more than his shoulders and a little of his chest. She'd been so swept away that she'd been less than active with her participation. Her artist's soul craved touching him, sweeping her fingers over him like a sculptor over a master work of art.

She glanced up at him, far more hesitant than she wanted to be. She wasn't a virgin any longer, but she didn't know what she was doing. She didn't want to hurt him, and just reaching out and gripping his dick...

Oh, she couldn't!

"Come here, Baby Girl," Derek said, his voice warm and soothing, like poured honey coating her and easing her mind. He'd moved up more on his pillow so that the headboard of his bed was partially supporting him, and he reached out a hand to her.

Penelope held his hand, and he tugged her closer and then placed her hand on his chest.

"Feel me, sweetheart?" he asked, keeping his hand on top of hers. "I'm really no different than you."

She laughed and chided, "Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not," he countered, moving her hand over to the center of his chest. "See? My heart's beating, just like yours."

She felt the rhythmic thumping of his heart, and she could swear that it matched hers, the same, beautiful beats. She stroked lightly with her fingertips in a soothing motion and was surprised to hear Derek's quick intake of breath. Concerned that she'd hurt him, she met his gaze.

His eyes were darker, the twinkle gone, and a look of pleasure was obviously there. Pleasure she'd given him.

"What else is the same?" she asked breathlessly, new found power and delight surging in her veins.

"You like when I touch you, right?" he asked.

That was the silliest question ever. "Of course!"

"Well...I like it when you touch me, too."

A little thrill coursed through her veins. She was given encouragement to touch him. It was a request. She nodded. "Okay."

With courage and an eagerness to please, Penelope slid her fingers over his chest. His skin felt similar, yet different from hers. He was hotter than she was by noticeable degrees, and there was a roughness her skin lacked, far less silky and smooth, like his skin was tougher, more weatherproof than hers.

Maybe men were meant to be shirtless in the sun...

Letting her fanciful thoughts drift away, she slid her hand over his pectoral muscle to the flat brown nipple that caught her attention. There were a few curling black hairs that surrounded both, and they were a shade darker than the rest of his chest. As she touched one, it was far softer, and when she brushed her fingertips over it, it hardened, like a tiny version of her own pink, much larger nipples.

"That's it, Penelope," he murmured, causing her to look up at him again. He was still smiling softly, but his gaze was heavy lidded, relaxed.

Since he'd liked her touch, she wanted to reach his other nipple, but she was perched on one side. She had to lean over him, and that would feel awkward. Not one to be thwarted, she moved to her knees and reached both hands. That caused her to tipple forward the slightest bit, and she almost fell on top of him.

Derek reached for her waist with his strong hands, steadying her.

"I'm sorry!" she said quickly.

"Hey, no apologies," he said with a gentle smile. "I'm new to this, too."

She gave him a look that she hoped said she clearly didn't believe him. It must've worked, because he burst out laughing.

"No, not to sex!" he explained. "This is the first time I've ever taught someone how to make love. Now, don't grimace like that."

Ugh. She felt green and useless. "Why not?"

"Because, I think it's sexy," he murmured, drawing her forward to kiss her neck, "and sweet, and...I'm honored to be your only man. I would've wanted you if you'd been with ten guys, but this..." He paused for a second. "I just want you to know I'm taking this teaching thing seriously, Baby Girl."

"Thank you," she said, smiling at his sweet, serious intensity. She hadn't given it as much thought as he did, and for some reason, that made her love him all the more.

"So...let's figure this out," he said as he lifted her slightly so that she was straddling his thighs. "That's perfect. Proceed."

It was a wonderful perch, and Penelope found that she could touch him freely, stroking both hands onto his chest. Oh, he was beautifully made. Better than any sculpture from Michelangelo, better than anything the Greeks could've dreamed up. He was God-like, an Adonis. Her chocolate Adonis.

A delicious heat was building in her again, making her want to squirm against him as she lowered her hands to his stomach. She traced the fine muscle indentations and the sweet little concave circle that was his navel and then lower, brushing against the head of his cock.

"Oh, yeah," Derek moaned, those molten dark eyes casting heat of their own and touching her deep inside, urging her on.

Penelope's breaths were coming fast as she continued, the slow burn in her body building to a boiling ache again. She slipped her fingers to the coarse hairs that bisected his lower abdomen and trailed into the thicket below his burgeoning shaft. He was fully aroused again, like he'd been when she was drawing him. She'd always thought men needed a break after sex, but apparently, Derek didn't. She wondered if perhaps that was a benefit of being twenty-one?

The dam of restraint and embarrassment she was feeling broke, and her desire to touch him multiplied tenfold. She reached her hand down, running her open palm over his thick erection. Stroking him lightly, she could feel the ridges and veins that ran along his shaft. With a fingertip, she traced a vein, thinking that they were beautiful definition, yet one of many points of interest for an artist.

Derek gasped, a fast intake of breath through his teeth.

She gasped and started at him, hesitant to continue. "Am I hurting you?"

Derek groaned, and valiantly attempted to smile. "No, you're fine." He did smile then. "Just fine."

She nodded and continued what she was doing as she watched him. The expression on his face was odd, a mix of pleasure and pain.

He groaned again. "Baby...squeeze it, please?"

"So polite," she said with a wicked smile, pleased that she was bringing him pleasure. She then gripped him in both of her hands, squeezing like she would clay or putty. Again, Derek groaned, and his eyes closed as he sunk back into the pillow, letting her have her way with him.

It was so hot, so hard, like marble encased in velvet and silk. She could feel his heartbeat in his erection, just like she had when she'd felt it against her chest. He felt damp, smooth, unlike anything she'd ever felt. She slid her hands upward, feeling blood pumping, and the peak of her sex began to tingle and throb in an answering rhythm. But before she could do much more, Derek grabbed her wrists.

"Hold on, sweetness." He reached into the drawer next to his bed and removed a condom. He held it up, grinning at her. "Wanna do the honors?"

Nodding, she tore open the package. She could feel wetness rushing between her legs, and the ache between her legs grew to an insatiable hunger. Derek held his shaft by the base, and Penelope began to slide the tight-fitting sheath over the spongy-feeling tip of his cock. It took a few tries, but she managed to fit him into the opening.

"Do I stretch it more?" she asked. It was the first condom she'd ever touched, much less put on.

He shook his head. "Slide it down."

She then noticed it rolled, and the rest at that point was easy. Soon, he was sheathed, and with a smile of satisfaction at a job well done, she sat back. "Done."

"Not quite," he said, and with a grunt and a swift move, he reached for her hips and drew her forward so that she was straddling the middle of his chest. A second later, he began to lower her until she felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

"Are you ready?" he asked, holding her somewhat suspended above him.

Her body gave a quickening throb and pulse, and she knew her answer. "I'm ready."

Slowly, oh, so slowly, he lowered her onto his cock. As he entered her, there was the slightest twinge of discomfort, only to be replaced by the deliciously full feeling she'd had before. There was a strange, wonderful satisfaction, too, like a part of her was missing, and with him inside her, she was complete. Finally, she'd engulfed him entirely within her sheath.

"Okay, sweetheart?" he growled.

She smiled and closed her eyes as her blood turned to liquid lava, slowly, decadently flowing through her body. "Mmm hmm, Hot Stuff."

She opened her lazy lids and met his intense gaze. At the same time, he kept his hands on her hips and began rocking her, back and forth. Each little thrust felt just a bit deeper, just a bit stronger, and sparks of excitement began to grow in her. She started to follow him, mimicking the rhythm he was setting for her with his hands, and soon, she was rocking, sliding, bouncing on her own.

"That's my girl," he said as he began forays on her body, touching her sensitive breasts, the insides of her arms. Her skin felt hypersensitive to her, making her want more touching, more feeling, more movement, more...everything.

As her desire built, she sped up her movements, creating more of the delicious friction she didn't even know she was craving. She was sweating, and her pace grew to reckless proportions. She was reaching for completion, yet she felt she couldn't get there alone.

"Derek," she keened in desperation.

"Right here, baby," he murmured as his fingers reached between their bodies, stroking where her pleasure centered.

She fractured, arching her back and shuddering and shaking as waves of pleasure rolled over her. On and on, it ricocheted through her body, spasms of pure joy rocking her world. She felt Derek's answering pulse, but she couldn't see him. Her eyes were closed, unable to focus.

She collapsed forward, panting, as warm tendrils of bliss continued to buzz down the pathways of her nerves. Derek brought a hand to her back, stroking softly as he panted from the exertion, too. And as she lay there, satisfied and filled with love, she knew there was no where on earth she would rather be.


	20. Chapter 20

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews...Here we go with the next chapter!_

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**Chapter 20**

When Penelope woke up sometime later, she was lying on her side, the firm wall of Derek's muscular chest touching her nose with his even breaths. She felt somewhat like Dorothy landing in Oz. Everything was so different. Instead of being in her cold bunk, she was snuggled in the crook of Derek's arm on his tiny bed. The scent in the room was spicy, like warm, vibrant male, and there was a hint of the musky tang of sex tickling her nostrils. Derek's breathing was quiet, instead of Prentiss's soft snoring she usually heard. She wondered again if he was sleeping. Sweet beats, she sure felt sleepy and even a little stiff and sore.

Not that she would take back a single thing. God, no.

She was smiling as she opened her eyes and found that he wasn't sleeping. Derek was watching her, the only light in the room being supplied by the moon streaming in through his window. At some point, he must've shut off the lamp she'd used when she was drawing, but she didn't know when. She'd obviously fallen asleep after they'd made love the second time.

"Hey, sleepy," he murmured softly. "'Bout time you woke up."

"Didn't you rest?" she asked.

"Nah."

"My hunky Hershey kiss," she complained, causing him to chuckle. "You need your rest."

He gave her a sweet half-smile. "I'd rather watch you."

Penelope could feel her cheeks heat at the compliment, and she began to depreciate herself. "I'm not _that_ interesting, and you—"

"Yes, you are," he interrupted. "You've got to believe me. Not many girls are both sexy and brilliant."

She giggled. "Hey, my head is going to swell."

"It should," he said seriously. Derek brought a hand up to caress her cheek as he spoke. He captured a thick, dark honey lock of hair that had fallen forward and drew it between his fingers, stroking the silken length, before putting it tenderly back in place. "You look so beautiful in the moonlight..."

"So do you," she answered honestly.

He continued to watch her, fixated, almost like he was seeing her for the first time. His voice was thick, deep and rich, like the most indulgent hot fudge, as he breathed, "So beautiful...like an angel."

Emotion caught in Penelope's throat, and her heart began to beat harder. Something in her expression must've relayed what she wanted, because he brushed his lips against hers. Soon, one brush became two, two became four, and four fanned the flames inside her to make her burn for him.

Judging by the hard press of his erection against her stomach, Derek seemed to be in a similar state. His splayed hands against her back drew her impossibly closer as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, possessing both her and her mouth with a single sweep.

"Penelope," he moaned against her lips. "I want you so bad again." He groaned and then chucked softly. "Am I ever going to get enough of you?"

That made her smile. "Not if I have anything to do with it," she teased, which earned her a bright grin in return.

He chuckled and slapped her bare butt. "Insatiable minx."

"Your fault; you created this monster." She grinned and stretched her arms out. "It's alive!"

"I did, huh?" He gave her that sexy half-smile again that made her insides flip. "Then it's the best thing I ever did."

"Oh, yes," she drawled, bringing her hand up behind his neck to draw his lips to hers.

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Far too soon, the fingers of light that was dawn began to color the sky, signaling time for Penelope to go home. She had to be home before her housemother checked and found that she hadn't returned. There were rules, after all...at least for her sorority.

Although she said she could go herself, Derek walked her to her house, all the way to the bottom of her fire escape. Once they reached their destination, Derek enfolded her in his arms, holding her tightly like he'd done a million times before.

"I don't want to go, hotness," she murmured against his chest, her arms wrapped around his lean waist.

He kissed the top of her head. "I don't want you to go, sweetness."

She looked up at him and saw the same look he had earlier, the one that told her everything she needed to know, that reflected what she felt in her heart.

"I love you, Derek," she said softly, bringing her hand up to touch the side of his face.

He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. "Go upstairs, angel, before I carry you off and have my way with you."

"You, silly boy," she said, poking him in the center of his chest with her finger, "think that is a deterrent. I am here to tell you, it is not."

"Hey," he said, capturing her hand. "Easy now..."

As he drawled the words, he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it softly, reverently. A second later, he nipped her finger, and she gasped. She watched his eyes darken, his expression shift just the slightest.

"Oh, hell," he said, and using that hand he'd kissed, he tugged her back into his arms for a hot and heavy embrace.

They stood there, locked in each other's arms and trading kisses. She rose on her toes, and he cupped her ass, bringing her higher against him. She could feel his always-ready erection, and although she was far too sore to make love again, she wiggled instinctively against him anyway.

"Woman," he said with a groan, releasing her slowly, "you are going to be the death of me."

"I'm sorry."

He laughed. She didn't sound the least bit sorry, and she knew he knew it. "Baby, you got to go."

"I know," she groused, stepping back. She touched her kiss-bruised lips that were still tingling from his kisses. "I'll behave."

He groaned, his gaze still focused on her lips. "Somehow, I highly doubt that."

She chuckled and reached for her artist's kit and easel. Climbing the ladder to her room, she slid into her window and leaned out, blowing him a final kiss goodbye.

He caught it with a wink and then turned and ran back to his own dorm.

Penelope sighed happily and tiptoed past a sleeping Prentiss. She placed her art pack on the bed and then frowned at it.

Oh, hell. Her picture still wasn't done.

Opening the bag, she withdrew the drawing, rolled it out, and studied it. She'd gotten a few things wrong the first time she'd drawn him. As she looked at it, she could see every contour of Derek's body plain as day in her mind. She traced a line, the memory of Derek's body fresh in her mind, guiding her hands. This was going to be wonderful.

After all, she'd made an intimate study of him.

Spreading the drawing out on her desk, she reached for her charcoal and her pencil and got to work.

* * *

"Holy crap!"

"What!" Penelope cried as she bolted upright in her chair. The bright sunlight streaming through the window and her glasses, hopelessly crooked, blinded her.

Good grief. She'd been sleeping at her desk.

As Penelope adjusted her glasses, Emily Prentiss reached for her drawing. Emily's mouth was hanging open, focused on one particular part of the artwork.

"Is that thing drawn to scale?" Em asked with a squeal. "I mean...really?"

Penelope could feel her cheeks flushing red and was grateful she didn't have to answer.

"Holy crap!" Emily repeated. "That thing is fuckin' _huge_! I'm surprised he can walk upright!"

To Prentiss's credit, Penelope remembered that she _had_ thought something similar, or had thought about it not quite fitting. Mercy, that sounded cliché, but the thought really had rolled through her mind.

"Damn. Lucky tarts he dates," Prentiss grumbled with a shake of her head, tossing the picture back on the desk. Then she took a good look at Penelope. "Oh man, you're one of those lucky tarts! You did it, didn't you?"

"Ummm," she muttered, but knew deep down that she looked guilty as charged.

"Well, atta girl!" Prentiss slugged her arm. "Good for you!"

Penelope rubbed her sore arm. "Thanks."

"How was it?" Prentiss asked, a big, cheesy grin spread across her face.

"It was...nice." Penelope never thought she'd be the kind that kissed and told, and she was right. She didn't want to speak about the night before. It was new to her, this overwhelming feeling of love, and she wanted to keep it to herself for a while.

"Ah," Prentiss said, stroking her chin. "You _say_ nice, but you look like it was more than nice. That's good. Very good."

"Emily..."

"Fine, fine. I'll leave you alone." Prentiss stood, grabbing her stuff for her shower.

That made Penelope look at the clock: 10:40.

"Oh, frack!" she cried, beginning to scramble. House rules said everyone needed to be up and dressed by ten.

"Don't worry," Emily said with a laugh. "Strauss called in sick; you can go back to bed."

Penelope heaved a sigh of relief. She started toward her bunk to climb in. "Thank God."

Emily called from the doorway. "Hey, Garcia?"

She turned to look at her roomie.

"Truly, I'm happy for you," Prentiss commented.

Penelope smiled, even as she yawned hugely. "Thanks, Em."

"You're a lucky woman, PG," Em remarked as she opened the door. "I think that boy really cares about you."

She stepped out of the room.

"I know he does," Penelope replied softly, hugging her pillow with the barest hint of a sweet, knowing smile curving her lips before drifting off to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. Life has been positively insane, so I haven't had a chance to answer, but I promise I will answer as always. Also, I put out a one shot for the Halloween season (It's a David Rossi vs. _Zombies_ story that features the whole team...who can resist that?! Tee hee). Go read it and let me know what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 21**

"P'nelopeeeee! The _pest_ is here for you again!"

Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head at Emily Prentiss as she shouted up the stairs of Theta Epsilon. She then turned and grinned at him before opening her book and burying her face in it, as if he wasn't even in the room.

Emily Prentiss knew how to dismiss a person.

Frankly, he couldn't argue with Prentiss about him being a pest. Since that wonderful night his baby girl had come over to finish her drawing—he never did get to see that picture when it was finished!—they'd been together nonstop. He walked her to class, they ate lunch together, they had dinner together whenever they could, and they'd "study" in his room. The only times they were apart were when he worked, when they had class, and when they slept.

He missed her when they were apart.

"Good book?" he asked the brunette.

Prentiss looked very badass. She was in a Metallica shirt that said, "And Justice for All..." and ripped jeans with enough safety pins fastened to them to set off a metal detector.

"Yeah," she answered, looking up from the book.

Derek noticed she had on thick black eyeliner that obscured rather nice, earnest-looking brown eyes. He wondered if that whole Goth persona was hiding something. The guys next door thought she was a stoner, and Biffy had hinted she had the means to get the drugs, too—rich relatives or something.

It didn't matter. Derek hadn't believed it then, and looking at her clear, intelligent eyes, he didn't believe it now. Besides, Penelope had said Emily was a nice girl, and Prentiss had always been rather nice to him in the criminology classes they shared.

He'd never believed Carlson or Biffy before; he certainly wasn't going to start now.

Resolved to make a new friend, he asked, "Who's it by?"

She arched a brow at him, like she was skeptical as to why he'd want to talk to her. "Who's what by?"

"Your book," he answered. "It looks interesting."

"Oh, it is." Excitement lit her face, and she smiled sincerely at him, her nearly black lipstick parting and revealing shiny white teeth. "David Rossi. He's a profiler with the FBI."

"Profiler," Derek said in question, frowning a little in concentration. "That's the kind of new science they use to get into the minds of criminals, right?"

'Yeah, but they call the criminals Unknown Subjects," she corrected.

He wondered why they were unknown if they knew the person, but he didn't ask. Instead, he continued on his original bent.

"Learning anything?"

"Always...but I think I got this case." She shrugged. "It's an applied art, profiling, but I study behavior so much, I think I could teach Rossi a thing or two."

He smiled at her. "I don't doubt that, Prentiss."

"Ready to go?" Penelope asked, bouncing down the stairs. She looked adorable, in a bright blue top with something printed on it, a pair of light blue jean shorts, and a headband with pink and blue stars that matched perfectly. As she stepped closer, he could see the little pink and red cherries in the print on her shirt.

She looked far more delicious than those cherries...

Derek tugged her into his arms and planted a kiss on her, one that should've been much less passionate than it was. It had been a few hours, and he missed her. In any case, he couldn't help himself; she fired him up and touched his senses on every level. As he was about to shift her, to make the kiss even deeper, Prentiss's dulcet tones rang out.

"Eww. Get a room," she said flatly and then quickly added, "Another room. Not ours, Penelope. That would be...eww." She shuddered. "Just eww."

"Sorry, Em," Penelope said softly.

Prentiss rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide that they were sparkling, proving she wasn't as bothered as she'd pretended to be.

"See ya later, Prentiss," Derek said with a smile, and Penelope covered her mouth while she giggled.

Em waved. "Go have fun, you two."

Derek held the screen door open for Penelope and then slid a possessive arm around her as they descended the stairs. It felt so right to him, having her so close. Damn, he was in love with her. Thoughts of her filled his every waking moment. He wanted her there forever; he couldn't imagine a time without her in his life. He'd never been in love before, and he was falling so hard, it scared him sometimes.

"Where are we going?" she asked sweetly, those big, beautiful eyes of hers clearly visible behind her thick lenses.

Derek truly hadn't thought that far. He simply knew he had an afternoon off work and he wanted to spend it with her. They'd gone to the movies, and she'd watched him play ball with the guys, and they'd been to the park and dinner. They'd gone on walks and to the pub for beers and wings.

"How about the art museum?" he asked, thinking of her likes. She did what he liked so easily and never complained.

A look of surprise swept over her. "The art museum?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging slightly. "Why not?"

"Love bug, you hate the museum," she answered honestly.

"I don't hate it," he said and, knowing he was lying, added, "much."

She laughed. "Baby, you don't have to do it if it isn't your thing."

"And watching football is your kind of thing?" he countered.

"When I get to watch you, my perfect specimen of mocha maleness, in tight pants and a cup that I know from experience is too small?" She grinned lasciviously at him. "Yes, indeedy."

He burst out laughing, but there was no argument for that. He loved to watch her draw—the way she lovingly stroked the paintings she did, how she stuck her tongue out the slightest bit when she was concentrating, how she smiled and flushed with happiness when a drawing was coming together. It was no different for her; his art was on the field.

He tucked her close and kissed the top of her head. "Well, it's time for me to expand my horizons, angel girl. Show me something I'll like."

"Ooh! I can teach you something," she said excitedly.

"Besides, you can show me that statue you thought was me," he teased. "I'm thinking he's one heck of a built Greek god."

"He was," she replied without a hint of artifice. "I picked Adonis, known for his physical beauty."

That made him smile...and blush. "Wow. I'm flattered."

"_He's_ the one that should be flattered," she said honestly. "You got a lot more going on in a certain spot than he does." She glanced downward. "One fig leaf wouldn't cut it."

Derek shook his head and then gave her a quick kiss. "My crazy, dirty girl."

They made it to his bike, and Derek mounted his seat. Penelope climbed on behind him, kissed his cheek, and then snuggled closer to him as they drove off to the museum.

* * *

The art museum was a lot of fun, as far as art museums go, in Derek's opinion. Derek didn't really understand what he was looking for—a bowl of rotting fruit was just a bowl of rotting fruit in his mind—but he enjoyed that Penelope was enjoying herself.

It was obvious she was having a blast. Penelope was a good instructor, telling him what to look for in each item and explaining a little about the artists that painted the pictures as they went along. She was animated, too, lively and fun, and she seemed to find something interesting in every piece.

In fact, he started wanting to stump her. Some of the pictures were downright ridiculous, as far as he was concerned.

"Okay, what is this supposed to be?" he asked, seeing three squares, joined together on a white background. It looked like something any four year old could do, and yet, there it was, with a huge price tag on it.

"Ooh," Penelope gushed, smiling when she saw the tag. "This is from an up-and-coming local artist. The white represents purity, the dark sin, and the squares represent pulls on the artist's soul. Each square is the same size, each one equally important, yet intermingled to show they affect him together."

"Ah," he said, his hands on his hips as he stared at it. That was better than just three squares on a canvas. Still, he had questions. "Okay...why squares?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Probably something internal that the artist is experiencing, but she didn't say what it was."

"That's a cop-out."

"Oh, no," she explained. "Not at all. See, this way, we all can apply it to our own lives. Like maybe to a stay-at-home mom, it could be her kids, her spouse, and her home? Or for a businesswoman, it could be her career, her family, and her own time? For me, it's my family, my school, and my relationship with you." She gave the painting a thoughtful look, touching her chin as she pondered, and then she smiled at him brightly. "Something to consider."

Derek's heart skipped a beat. She just put him on the same level as her schooling and her family. The three most important things in her life, and he was one of them. He felt unworthy and honored and pleased.

Unable to find the words to thank her for her love, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly, with everything he had inside him. When he pulled away, she was breathless and blushing.

"Goodness, D," she said, a smile curving her lips. "What was that for?"

"Because."

She giggled. "You need to learn to tone those kisses down, bucko."

He dipped her and then planted a fast, loud smack on her lips. "Like that?"

Looping her arms around his neck, she drawled softly, "You can do a little better than that..."

"My pleasure," he said, helping her to her feet and giving her another kiss, this time making it an appropriate kind of kiss for in public.

He could behave sometimes when he needed to...

"How's that?" he asked, his hands on her waist, itching to dip lower and make this a kiss to light up the museum.

"Mmmm," she said with a soft, sexy smile. "Just right."

He smiled back. "Woman, keep smiling like that, and we'll make use of that sculpture over there."

He pointed at a flat slab that had another flat slab parked under it that two other students were looking at. It resembled a bed—sort of—and it could be of use.

Penelope looked over, grinning, but as he watched her, her expression changed. She looked troubled, unhappy.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing."

Derek glanced over to where she had been looking, to the two girls that were standing there were whispering to each other and laughing. They looked familiar, but he didn't recognize them. Had they said or done something to upset her?

He tipped her chin and made her meet his eyes. "Penelope, did they do something?"

"No," she said quickly, but her cheeks were stained ruddy, signaling that wasn't the whole truth. "It's fine."

"Sweetness, we—"

"Derek, let's just leave this room," she interrupted, reaching for his hand and dragging him out of the room.

Although it went against his better judgment, Derek just let it go. He didn't want to ruin their time by upsetting her, making her talk about what it was that bothered her. Maybe it was something in the art itself? He'd find out about it later.


	22. Chapter 22

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews...Each one warms my heart and encourages me to type away!

* * *

**Chapter 22**

Later that evening, Penelope and Derek were at his house in the large study area. There was a bag of Red Vines, a bowl of popcorn, a beer, and a Diet Coke on the table in front of them. The latest release from an indy band Penelope liked was playing on the radio, and in a half hour, it would be classic rock, which Derek favored. It was like any study night, except Derek was helping Penelope cram for a test she had to take.

Although she liked the subject, American History wasn't one of her favorites. She still had all the artwork and the fun they'd had at the museum replaying in her mind.

"Baby Girl," Derek said in a sing-song tone of voice. "You're not paying attention."

She flushed guiltily. She'd been daydreaming, but she didn't want to let him know that. "Yes, I am."

With a half chuckle and an eyebrow arch, he laughed. "Come on, honey. I know better. Besides, you'd be on my ass if I wasn't paying attention to you when we study."

"But I was paying attention."

He shook his head. "Okay. What conflict was I reading about?"

_Oh, frack!_ She'd run herself deep into a ditch, and she couldn't back out without trampling over a rose garden. Trying desperately to rack her brain, she squinted and answered hesitantly in the form of a question, "The battle of Tra Bien?"

"Not so far in Asia."

She blinked. "What?"

Derek grinned at her. "Sweetheart, we haven't even gotten to Vietnam yet. I'm still at the Korean War."

She frowned and huffed. "Oh, you win. I wasn't listening."

His look was superior as he gloated, "I knew it."

"Well, it's your fault, sugar shack," she argued passionately. "I listen to that sexy, mellow voice of yours reading on with all those foreign-sounding words, and I lose myself."

Derek leaned a little closer, held her a little tighter, and the tone of his voice dropped a half octave or so. "You do, huh?"

"Mmm hmm, angelfish," she replied, turning into his body. "All this talk about battles...I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Penelope could feel a low rumble of laughter escape his chest as he angled his head toward hers. "Don't I know it, sweetness..."

"Oh, Jesus," Carlson muttered as he stood from where he'd been sitting on the couch about ten feet away from them. "Get a fucking room."

Penelope hadn't even noticed him sitting there. She'd been too ensconced in her daydreaming and studying. She didn't mind going to Derek's house, but she tried to avoid Carlson, who was hostile, and Mark, who gave her sad looks of depressed regret.

"It's a public place, Carlson," Derek growled.

"My point exactly!" Gary gasped in mock outrage. "Mark and I don't need to see you two makin' out."

Derek was about to say something in response, when Jagger came in from the kitchen, holding a beer. "Oh, can it, Gary. I've walked in on Biffy giving you head before in that same spot." He grinned and winked at Penelope and Derek. "Carry on, kiddies."

"Well, that settles it." Carlson rose from the couch. "I'm goin' to my room."

He left rather quietly—as far as Carlson was concerned—but not before he passed gas in a silent-but-deadly manner behind where they were sitting and Jag was standing.

"That stinky bastard!" Jagger gagged and then growled, muttering as he went back in the kitchen. "I'm kicking his ass next time—"

Penelope put her hand over her nose, her eyes watering, as she looked at Derek.

"Baby, don't cry," he said. "This had nothing to do with you. Carlson's been a bear since—"

She disagreed with him, but it wasn't making her cry. This was kind of funny. She put her other hand on his arm to soothe him. "I'm not crying, sweetie, but...well, the studying is definitely ruined."

"Wanna go upstairs?" he asked hopefully.

She nodded, and Derek gathered her books in one arm as they headed up the stairs.

* * *

Penelope was blissfully relaxed in Derek's room. She was snuggled, resting partially on him under toasty covers. They were both naked, and the moon was streaming in through the window. His TV was on, but they weren't watching it, and the sounds of the show they weren't watching added a low drone in the background, a white noise that added to the peaceful feeling. It was their own private cove, and she wished they never had to part from it.

"Penelope?" Derek's warm chest vibrated under her ear when he asked the question.

It took most of the evening together with neither of them mentioning it, but she knew what was coming next. "Hmm?"

"Those girls today...at the museum. Why were you upset?"

"I wasn't upset," she began, and then changed her answer so that she wasn't lying. "Not really."

She glanced up at Derek, who was patiently waiting for an answer from her. Sighing softly, she continued, "They're...just not nice."

"Baby Girl. Talk to me."

Even with the sincere look of support in his warm, brown eyes, Penelope hesitated. It wasn't because she didn't trust him, or couldn't tell him, but that it was hard for her to understand herself.

Many girls in her classes—even well-meaning girls—would say to her in a tone of absolute wonder, _"Wow! Your boyfriend is so hot!" _

Looking at it from face value, that was a kind statement, one Penelope could be proud of. But other girls, including the two this afternoon, weren't so well-meaning, and came straight out, adding, _"What is he doing with you?" _

It was enough to shake even a strong woman's confidence, and Penelope was just starting to build her own. How could she talk to him about it, and explain what they said, when deep down...she wondered if they had a point?

She'd even said the same thing herself before they'd started dating.

Penelope looked at the clock and groaned. Although it saved her from answering, it didn't make her happy. It was time for her to leave. She tried to sit up, but Derek wrapped his arm around her a little tighter.

"Sweet cheeks..."

"Don't go. You don't have to answer."

Penelope's heart was breaking as she looked into his sad, puppy dog brown eyes. "No, honey, it's not that. It's late. _Mon cher,_ I have to go."

He shook his head. "I don't want you to go. I want you to stay here. With me. All night."

"I do sometimes," she said with a soft smile, tapping his nose. "On weekends when Strauss is gone."

He held her hand and kissed her finger. "Not only weekends, baby. Every night."

She frowned, not quite understanding.

He took a deep breath. "I want you to move in with me."

"Oh, lover, I wish I could," she teased with a giggle. "However, as wonderful as that sounds, I can't live in the boys' frat house!"

"Penelope, I'm serious," he said, holding her face in his hands. "Next semester, I want us to get a place together. And keep it. All year."

"All year?"

"All year," he said directly. "I want us to stop sneaking around. I want to be surrounded by your stuff in my room. I want you to have more in my drawer than a change of your panties and a sweatshirt in case you get cold." He smiled, tracing a thumb down the side of her cheek. "I want a place that is just as much yours as it is mine."

"Derek," she murmured, breathless and surprised.

"Baby, will you move in with me?"

Her heart soared, but she worried immediately about him. This wasn't his hometown like it was for her. She didn't want him to sacrifice his life that he'd had. She cupped the side of his face in her hand. "My darling knight, what about Chicago, and your family, and—"

"Baby Girl, they'd want me to be happy," he interrupted, smiling brilliantly, "and I've never been so happy as I've been here with you."

"You make me happy, too."

"Sweetheart," he said softly, earnestly. "I graduate at the end of this year. I can find a job here just as easy as I can in Chicago."

Blinking back tears of happiness, she whispered, "You would do that for me?"

Kissing her lips softly, he said, "I don't want to lose you. I never want to lose you."

"Oh, Derek," she whispered.

He kissed her again, quickly deepening the kiss, molding his lips to hers. Her world began to ignite, and she felt trembles of excitement and passion surge as he rolled her under him.

"Stay the night with me, Penelope," he murmured, the warmth of his breath caressing her lips. She could feel the heavy, secure weight of his body, the heat of his erection, the steady beating of his heart. "I'll make sure you make it home. Just...please, don't leave."

Unable to deny him such a request, she slid her fingertips on both sides of his beautiful, perfect face, lovingly caressing him.

"I'll stay," she whispered, sliding her hands behind his neck and drawing him down for a soft, tender kiss.

"Oh, baby," he said before he once again took control of the kiss and possessed her, until she was sinking deeper and deeper into pure paradise.


	23. Chapter 23

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews. You guys are wonderful! Thanks for continuing to read and review. Here's some more hot and happy goodness, at least for a while...

* * *

**Warning: Sexual Content**

**Chapter 23**

A while later, Penelope was dozing, cuddled together with Derek. She'd cuddled with him so often in her fantasies in the past, but the reality beat everything her mind had dreamed up.

As usual, Derek was awake before her. She could feel his big, calloused hand stroking her back and the warmth of his breath as it wafted over her forehead and the bridge of her nose. They tickled, both his breath and his hand, and she crinkled her nose and suppressed a giggle.

He chuckled softly near her ear as he ducked down to give her a kiss. "You awake, sweetness?"

She grumbled something noncommittal, tucking her face closer to his neck. He was warm and toasty, and she was pretty sure she didn't want to be up.

"That's okay, you can stay sleepy," He drifted his hand down farther, patting her bottom and then giving a little jiggle that made her squirm. "This man has to get up for a few."

With gentle movements, he slid his arms out from around her. Penelope protested just a bit and then frowned as she lay against the far cooler pillow. Adding to her discomfort, the bed dipped as he stood and her decadent source of heat left her side. That caused her to open her eyes.

Derek, deliciously naked, was bending over for a pair of boxers. His strong legs and gorgeous ass were in her view, and as he stood back up, his smooth back and broad shoulders were on display.

Well, she was awake now...

He stepped out, and she flicked on the light, sitting up in his bed. Glancing at his clock, she saw that it was only three in the morning. She still had time before Strauss arrived at her usual six to do bed checks. That was plenty of time to—

The door opened, and Derek entered. He took one look at her and grinned. "What is going on in that devilish mind of yours, Baby Girl?"

She couldn't help but grin at him, too. He was sweetly sleep-rumpled, with a crease on his cheek and his hair mussed and sticking up at odd angles. "Why would you say that?" she purred with faux innocence.

He slid off his boxers, revealing his already-interested erection. He started moving toward her. "You look like the cat who ate the canary."

"Silly boy," she teased, patting the bed next to her. "I'm mostly vegetarian..."

He was still smiling when he climbed in and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tight and close, so that her skin nearly melded with his. She held him as well, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her tingling breasts into his hard chest.

It never ceased to surprise Penelope how she felt when Derek was kissing her. Electric flares of energy washed over her, rendering her weak and nearly limp. A carnal hunger burned in her, causing her to open her mouth to the plundering of his deliciously sinful tongue and making her devour him in return. She stroked his tongue with hers, and a shiver that made her entire body quake rolled through her and centered in her throbbing groin.

It was the greatest part of their lovemaking, as far as she was concerned, so naturally, when he broke the kiss and moved so that she was lying in front of him, she was disappointed that it stopped. However, the disappointment didn't last long. Her body was cradled against his, and soon, he was kissing the side of her neck and fondling her breasts, which was very, very good, too.

Making love on her side was new for her, and ever a good student, she was curious to how this would work. A moment later, her excitement started to build even more as he slid his hand from her breasts, down over her soft tummy. Derek paused, dipping the tip of his thumb into her navel. The odd sensation made her jolt, and she could feel the vibration of his silent chuckle against her back. Before she could question him, he continued his exploration, lowering his hand to stroke the dampened triangle between her legs.

With a moan of pleasure, Penelope arched her hips toward his hand. She wanted the pleasurable fondling that only he could provide, stoking her fire until she came endlessly. She parted her legs, allowing him more access, and sighed with bliss as his rough fingertips stroked her folds.

"Ohhhh, Derek," she breathed as he circled her clit, teasing once, twice, making her legs twitch and shake, only to stroke her again and repeat the caresses.

Penelope was panting, her entire body warm and aroused and achy and needy. She didn't think she could take much more, but then he slid a long finger into her opening. Oh, it was bliss, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

She knew exactly what she wanted. She could feel his hot erection between the cheeks of her ass, branding her with its heat, and she rocked back against it, while at the same time trying to keep contact with his hand.

Just as she was about to cry out in frustration, he reached for her thigh and hooked her leg over his. Derek eased his erection inside her, a heavy, yet shallow slide, and her eyes rolled at how good it felt.

"Mmm, yeah. So damn good," he murmured, his tone gravelly and thick. He was thrusting gently, a rocking motion of his pelvis against hers, with his hand holding her thigh in place.

It was perfect for her. Nothing felt like this: a wonderful sensation, being wrapped in his arms, his body cradling her and being inside her. However, at the same time, her body was restless, wanting its release. She arched her hips backwards, trying to get more friction, more movement, more of him inside her.

She nodded agreement, but verbalized, "M-More...Derek, please."

"Hell, yes," he growled as he sped up his thrusts.

Penelope began to come, shaking and shivering as she came to her climax. Derek tightened his hand on her hip and, with a few harder strokes, caught his release.

Wrapped in his arms, exhausted and completely satisfied, she fell fast asleep, surrounded by Derek and the love she felt for him.

* * *

Altogether too soon, Derek was shaking her shoulder, waking her up.

"Five more mins," she murmured, stretching against him.

"We don't have five minutes, angel," he said regretfully. "Daylight's breaking, and we have to get you home before Strauss finds out you're missing."

That made her open her eyes. "Daylight?"

He nodded. "It's five a.m."

"Oh, frack!" she cried, jolting and nearly falling out of the twin bed.

Derek caught her carefully and brought her near him again. "Careful there," he murmured before lowering his head the slight distance to kiss her.

Just like she always did when he kissed her, Penelope melted into him, and she felt the jut of his arousal pressing against her stomach. Oh, how she wished school mornings were later!

Derek must've been thinking the same thing. "Baby, I don't think I am ever going to get enough of you. We've made love twice tonight, and I want you so badly again, I'm aching."

"I know I'll never get enough of you," she answered, holding him close.

"Sweetheart..." he groaned.

She gave him a cheeky grin and asked, "Think we can we be quick, lover?"

She'd meant it as a tease, but she could tell Derek was seriously pondering it. A second of indecision flashed on Derek's face, and then his eyes darkened with an intensity that made her core begin to pulse and liquify.

"Yeah...I think we can."

With lightening speed, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a condom. Sheathing himself, Derek moved over her, and with a squirm and a wiggle, they moved closer to the center into the bed.

"Ready?"

She nodded. He really didn't need to ask; with him, it felt like she'd been born ready!

Derek levered himself over her and began to push inside her. She cried out and hissed, her sensitive flesh both burning and throbbing in pleasure-pain as she was stretched and filled.

Once they were joined and ready, he began a quick rhythm, stroking fast and methodically. She arched and raised her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. The bed springs squeaked, and sweat was building between their bodies, making them slippery and even more sensitive. Their bodies collided in frantic need with each stroke.

And before she knew it, she was gone, over the edge in pulsing waves of orgasmic joy. She screamed, shuddered, and shook. At the same time, Derek took her mouth in a deep kiss as she felt his cock pulse and buzz inside her.

Any lingering bliss was short lived: a loud pounding against the wall proved that they'd woken Derek's neighbor.

Some curse words were muttered through the wall, which made Penelope blush and hide her face in his chest. "I'm sorry."

"To hell with him," Derek said, waving it off. "It's Carlson. I've had to listen to his crappy music and his crappy girlfriend bitch and moan for two years." He rolled them to their sides and then patted her butt softly. "He got the better end of the deal... He got to hear a goddess in full bloom."

Penelope giggled and lifted her head off his chest to look up at him. "You are an incredible man, Derek Morgan. Crazy and insatiable, but incredible."

"You," he said with a smile...but then a panicked look crossed his face, "are gonna be late."

Penelope glanced at the clock. It was five thirty-seven, and Strauss would be there before they knew it. With his help, she dismounted from him and found her clothes she'd worn last night. A second later, she was down the fire escape and running to her house.


	24. Chapter 24

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews...As for this chapter...well, I will let it speak for itself...

* * *

**Chapter 24**

Penelope hurried across the dew-dampened lawn and scrambled up the fire escape. As she reached to lift the window open, she broke two nails.

"Frack!" she cursed quietly. She didn't want to wake up Emily, and—

"Cutting it close, there, chica," Prentiss remarked groggily from her bunk.

"Sorry, Em," she whispered sheepishly.

"'S'kay," Emily commented and then rolled over away from Penelope with a loud yawn.

Penelope checked the clock. Strauss was due to arrive in fifteen minutes. Thank goodness she'd made it, clean and clear. There were strict Codes of Conduct for her sorority, and if she wanted to maintain her housing, she had to adhere to those codes. She'd never been a rule breaker in the past, but she'd never had anyone worth breaking the rules before.

At this point, she had just enough time to take a quick shower. She really needed a shower to be presentable. Derek would be at her house by seven to walk her to the Student Union for coffee and then to her class. After that first "date" that he'd kept her waiting, he was always punctual or even early.

After gathering her toiletry case, Penelope stripped naked, donned her robe, and tossed her towel over her shoulder. Smiling happily, she quietly opened the door so she didn't wake Prentiss again, and then she backed out, tiptoing silently out of the room.

"Miss Garcia," a booming voice sounded from behind her, making her jump.

She turned, feeling the blood drain from her face. "Mrs. Strauss!"

The cool, older blonde with icy blue eyes glared at her down her nose disdainfully. "We need to speak."

"Now, ma'am?" Penelope squeaked. She wished she had the power to glare back at the woman, but whenever Mrs. Strauss spoke, she babbled.

"After your shower," she said, giving a contemptuous sniff to the air and then waving her hand in front of her face. "God knows, you need it."

Penelope felt her cold cheeks begin to heat. She was mortified, thinking of what she must've smelled like: Derek's cologne, wine, and sex.

"You have ten minutes, Penelope," she ordered. "I suggest you hurry."

Penelope didn't wait. She turned and rushed to the shower, noticing that other girls peeking outside their rooms to give her a compassionate look.

Oh, shit. She was in serious trouble.

* * *

Penelope's hands were shaking when she opened her bedroom door after her hasty shower. She was dripping wet, and her hair and robe were sticking to her now-clean body. She tried to put her caboodle on her dresser, but dropped it on the ground, making a loud clatter.

"Garcia, could you please..." Emily began grumpily with a sleepy voice from her bed. She stopped herself when she turned to look at Penelope. "Oh, God. What happened to you?"

"Strauss is here." Penelope quickly stripped the sticking robe and dried herself rapidly. "She says she needs to talk to me."

Emily's face fell. "Oh, shit. She found out."

Rapidly, Penelope donned her bra and then stuffed her arms into her shirt. "I guess so."

Prentiss scowled. "Who the hell would tell on you two?"

"I don't know," she said, sliding on her panties and jeans. "I...crap."

Penelope didn't have time to talk; she didn't want to irritate Strauss any more this morning. She heard Prentiss's quick well wishes before she shut the door and ran down the stairs barefoot.

* * *

Exactly nine minutes after she'd met Mrs. Strauss in the hall, Penelope stood in the housemother's office.

"Miss Garcia," Mrs. Strauss said, looking up from her desk. "Please, take a seat."

Willing her shaking legs to cease, Penelope walked to the chair across from the older woman's desk and sat down. She hated being in Strauss's office, even for something good. The chairs were a lot lower than the captain's chair that Erin sat in, making her feel like a little kid. It was an obvious play that she wasn't on the same level as the housemother, that no one was on the same level.

"You wished to see me?" she asked bravely, feeling under the scrutiny of the blonde dragon.

"Penelope," Strauss said, her icy eyes chilling Penelope to the bone like a winter wind from Canada. "I have been told of some activities that cause concern."

"Yes, wh—"

"Your relationship with Derek Morgan has become a distraction to our house, to Gamma Phi house, and to the campus as a whole," Strauss began without preamble and without more response from Penelope.

Strauss was a straight-forward sort of person who didn't beat around the bush. Normally, this was a trait Penelope appreciated, but being on the receiving end was not a good feeling at all. Immediately, Penelope felt her stomach clench as sinking dread filled her.

_Oh, no...this was not going to be good_...

Strauss stood and began pacing back and forth behind her desk as she talked. "A week ago, I got a call from the sister house across the street. Sigma Theta. The housemother over there had been informed of clandestine activity happening between our house and Gamma Phi."

She narrowed her eyes at Penelope. "They told me that one of our girls was climbing out the window to go next door to enter Gamma Phi's house."

Sigma Theta...Biffy Bank's sorority house. Penelope highly doubted the call came from their housemother—the woman was a non-entity, a figurehead in name only. Sigma Theta was allowed to do whatever they wanted, as much so as the boys for Gamma Phi. Many of the girls from that house walked out the front door to go screw their respective boyfriends around the campus on a nightly basis, and for far longer than Penelope had been sleeping with Derek.

Still, it was Penelope on trial. As much as she'd like to bring the point up to Strauss, it would be null and void.

"I didn't believe the claims," Strauss said with a tone that wholeheartedly refuted her statement, "but then I investigated this morning—and I found that it was you."

Although she knew what was coming, Penelope still winced at the words.

"Naturally, being an academic house that takes their studies seriously—and the rules seriously—we have never had an infraction such as this in our house," Strauss continued. "I don't quite know what to do, besides break this to you plainly."

Mrs. Strauss paused, as if she were waiting for Penelope to say something—perhaps an agreement?—but then she started talking again. "I feel that I have been fair to you when it came to Derek Morgan, have I not?"

Penelope slunk down in her chair as the woman glared at her. That wasn't a lie; she had been very accommodating. "Yes, I—"

"I have allowed multiple calls from Mr. Morgan at odd hours. He is allowed to study here in our house, and I have let him visit and have been tolerant of his constant appearances here, despite how he riles up the girls in the house."

"Yes, ma'am."

"On that note..." Strauss cleared her throat and then pushed her glasses down her nose. "You _do_ realize that he riles up all the girls, Penelope?"

Penelope stiffened in her chair. She didn't like Strauss's tone or what she seemed to be implying. She couldn't be implying that...could she?

Penelope decided to ask. "What do you mean by that?"

Mrs. Strauss shook her head and sighed. "Penelope, I have heard exactly what kind of man Derek Morgan really is from the housemother over at Sigma Theta and from several other housemothers who have had girls...corrupted by him."

"_Corrupted?"_

"You are a naïve little girl who has been sucked into a tawdry affair from an older man that will most likely tire of you easily. I know what kind of girl you are, Miss Garcia, so I am being lenient on you, but it needs to end. This type of—" Mrs. Strauss huffed "—cheap liaison has never happened in this house before, and it shouldn't be happening now. You need to get your priorities straight, young lady."

Penelope had never been so upset in her life. Coolly, she said, "Oh, I have my priorities straight."

Strauss smiled. "Good. You can end this relationship with...Mr. Morgan, and—"

"And you can go to hell," Penelope snapped, standing up to meet the other woman's eyes. This woman could belittle her and believe crap about her, but to pick on Derek and assume the worst of him...Penelope saw red.

Strauss looked like she'd been slapped. "What did you say?"

"How dare you presume to tell me what my relationship with Derek is like or what it truly is?"

"Lower your voice this instant!" Mrs. Strauss ordered.

"He _loves_ me," Penelope snarled, unable to keep the venom out of her voice, "and he wants to move in with me. If you don't like it, that's too damned bad!"

"Miss Garcia!"

"You have my thirty-day notice today," Penelope said, raising her chin resolutely. "in the meantime, I will continue seeing Derek, whether you like it or not."

"I wouldn't advise that."

"Too freaking bad!" she yelled. "We are in love. He's going to move here with me—to California—and we are going to be happy."

As she turned to open the office door, she heard Strauss's voice ring out, "Miss Garcia, there are a few things you should be aware of."

"I am sure nothing you have to say is of any importance to me."

Mrs. Strauss said, "You realize you will lose your scholarship if you move out?"

"I don't give a damn!" It didn't matter to her; she could work and do loans, and her parents would assist with—

"And he will lose his."

That stopped Penelope in her tracks. She turned back, confusion written in her expression. "What does that matter? It's his final semester."

"As part of Derek Morgan's scholarship, he—one moment..." Strauss reached into her drawer and pulled out a document. She scanned it and then pointed. "Ah, here we go. He needs to carry a full class load of at least sixteen credits and remain housed on campus in a fraternity to serve as a mentor to underclassmen through graduation. Otherwise, he forfeits his entire funds he'd received—past and present."

Penelope's heart beat sluggishly in her chest.

"Hmmm," Strauss said, stroking her chin. "It looks like this is a very good scholarship: one for inner city students at poverty level who showed promise but lacked the ability to get funding any other way."

Immediately, Penelope thought about Derek and his family. His father had died a violent death, his mother—a full-time nurse—still lived in the projects in Chicago, he had two little sisters who were almost ready for college themselves. His family and her, the two things he talked about protecting and loving the most.

"There is another provision. A very interesting provision indeed. Derek must 'give back to his community' when he finishes school," Strauss added. "It seems that he was recommended for this scholarship by the community, a community center near his home."

If he moved to California to be with her...

Strauss scanned the document and unwittingly added the final nail to Penelope's coffin. "A Mr. Buford recommended him."

That name caused Penelope to look up, stricken, at her housemother. For Derek to have accepted anything from that man...he had to have been very, very desperate. He'd had to have seen no way out besides this. And he'd give it all up for her.

"Of course, Mr. Morgan _could_ pay it all back. He does work nearly full-time," Strauss drawled. "I think he's the only one in his house that has to do that, right?"

The tears were coursing down Penelope's face as she silently sobbed. Derek did work a lot, paid for his extras and sent money home to his mom and sisters. No one else in his house did that.

"Penelope," Strauss said, "I cannot allow your relationship to continue, and I am not trying to hurt you."

Penelope doubted that.

"I don't want you to leave—we as houseparents have stipends and funds, and such a ruckus would put this entire house in jeopardy. Now, clearly you can see with these provisions I found out about from the housefather at Gamma Phi that there was no chance at all that Derek Morgan would've ever been serious about his promises to you," she said softly and somewhat sadly.

_Oh, no_, she thought miserably. She knew Derek had been deadly serious...and he was the one with nothing to gain and everything to lose by staying with her.

"I'm sorry, Penelope, but you were being played. He has far too much to lose for one fling." Strauss stared out the window. "You have far too much to lose—as does our house—by this...incident."

Penelope didn't give a damn about what the house or Erin Strauss had to lose, but she did care about Derek and the extraordinary amount he had to lose.

All because of her.

She wasn't worth it.

"You may leave. Mr. Morgan has just arrived for you." When Penelope didn't respond, Strauss glanced back at her. "I trust you to do the right thing."

Numb and miserable, Penelope stood and left the office. She had a lot of thinking to do.


End file.
